


Black Mesa: Ground Zero

by Levefre



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Black Mesa (Half-Life), Gen, Headcrabs (Half-Life), Horror, Pre-Half-Life: Alyx, Science Fiction, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 75,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levefre/pseuds/Levefre
Summary: My latest writing project, Black Mesa: Ground Zero is a fan fiction telling the story of the events of Half-Life 1/Black Mesa Source and following the adventures of Gordon Freeman, a young Theoretical Physicist who is thrust into a very life-changing, catastrophic chain of events.A lot of inspiration is taken from the video games themselves, adhering to the lore as much as possible, changing things where appropriate (requiring realism), whilst also adding my own creative spin on certain elements and bulking out the story as if it were an actual novel.Each chapter will vary in length and there is no specific timeframe as to when each will be uploaded. This is something for fun to do in my free time.Legal stuff: Characters and franchise are property of Valve/Crowbar Collective.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Anomalous Materials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day at the office, right? That's what Gordon thought, anyway. 
> 
> Little does he know that his fairly mundane life is about to take a very different turn.

Prelude

He was running late.

Although he had arrived earlier than expected for training that morning and still made it back to the dormitories for a quick shower and breakfast, the case of the missing tie had cost him valuable time. On a day like today, where the most important experiment of his entire career thus far was due, he was late. He was late _again_.

The usual crowds had been and gone, leaving him free to jog to the transport hub without hindrance aside from the odd clocking off night shift staff and posted security guards who couldn’t help but laugh or grin at his expense. 

“Late again, Freeman? You better put more skip in your step if you wanna catch the next train on time!”

Gordon didn’t spare the owner of the voice a look; his expression said it all. He had a growing reputation of being late and he was fortunate that _most_ took it in jest. His superiors did not, however, Dr. Isaac Kleiner – his old mentor and close friend – always put in a good word for him. He was his protégé after all and already an expert in his field at the age of twenty-seven, even if his timekeeping was subpar.

After seemingly endless winding corridors of concrete and metal, he made it. The hub was remarkably quiet by now, which saved him having to push past others to get to the platform as he descended the stairs by two steps rather than one. The many screens dotted around the seated waiting area showed arrival and departure times, news bulletins and scheduled meetings for the day.

For a new employee all of this would normally be quite disorientating and confusing, but Gordon rushed on past it all; hearing nothing but his own laboured breathing and the clack of his heels on the polished grey floor. That was until the chime of the female announcer’s voice rang loudly overhead.

_“Now departing from Level 3 Dormitories to Anomalous Materials Test Labs, Sector C.”_

Like afterburners on a jet engine he pushed himself out of desperation to make it to the platform. He was already behind – he didn’t want to make it _worse_. Two men in lab coats had just boarded, one moving to sit and the other pausing to stop in the doorway as they heard the frantic steps heading their way.

Visibly stunned at the sight of the rapidly approaching colleague, he quickly moved inside the tram car as the alarm for the doors sounded. In the blink of an eye, Gordon leapt through the doorway and rather ungracefully landed on the metal floor spotted with old gum belly first, with the door sliding shut and locking behind him.

The whole car rumbled to life, shaking its occupants – Gordon more than anyone due to where he was – before starting to move down the rail. Whilst completely out of breath, there was a faint laugh of victory against all odds.

Sadly, the two on board with him did not share his sense of humour or joined in the celebration.

“ _Mr. Freeman_! Are you _mad_!? You could have seriously hurt yourself or got a limb stuck in the door!” A nasal-voiced scoff of disbelief came from the man sitting.

“Indeed, that was very reckless of you! Nevertheless, are you alright?” A much older gentleman with a thinning comb over asked as he began to help the younger scientist up.

Shaking from exhaustion, Gordon wheezed out a confirmation and slowly rose to his feet before being persuaded to sit on the front seat, which he sank into. He squinted up at the begrudgingly helpful passenger who was probably scowling at him – vision a bit too blurry to make out – and moved to adjust the glasses that were no longer present on his nose.

“Looking for these, I presume?” The man asked, offering the black horn-rimmed windows he had retrieved from the floor.

“You’re lucky they aren’t broken, you fool.” The one behind him jabbed.

Finally having oxygen to spare, Gordon took the glasses with a sheepish smile and a nod; realising his endeavour hadn’t exactly been taken in good faith. Clearing his throat, face reddening with embarrassment, he looked the lenses over and put them back on once seeing they were undamaged.

“Thanks...”

Both colleagues sighed deeply in defeat. The irritable man rose from his seat and began to move towards the back of the car, with the other close behind him.

“Now, if we have no further shows of acrobatics to share, I’d like to read my paper. Don’t do any other stupid things today, young man.”

“If he can help it, you mean. What Dr. Kleiner _sees_ in that boy I do not know.”

Gordon made a quiet noise of affirmation, forcing himself to look out of the window to avoid eye contact. This wasn’t the best of starts to an already bad day. He could feel eyes burning into him with disapproval and fully expected to hear a lecture or three later. There was some harsh muttering coming from both passengers but the hum of the tram drowned it out, probably for the better.

Despite the spectacular disaster of his landing and the grubbiness of his once-pristine lab coat, he had made it in one piece. The sharp ache coming from his ribs would pass over time and the old gum stuck to his pant leg where his knee had rested would hopefully not be noticed. He might even make it to the lab before 9:00 A.M.

Relaxing for the first time since he’d woken up, Gordon vacantly stared into the dark, foreboding tunnel lined with small lights. The drone of travel was interrupted by the returning announcer’s voice through the loudspeaker; reciting the safety guidelines, weather report and general company spiel. Gordon had memorised it all word for word due to his frequent trips and was able to blank it out entirely.

His mind was far more focused on what would await him at the lab today... Other than some furious faces.

Chapter One: Anomalous Materials

The Black Mesa Research Facility was perhaps the last place Gordon ever expected himself to be. A massive underground complex built around decommissioned launch silos in the middle of the New Mexico desert, it had quickly expanded over the years to suit the needs of its many staff and was completely self-sufficient.

Dating back to the 1950s, most of the facility had been converted for scientific research of almost every conceivable discipline, out of the way of disruption and prying eyes. Though government funded, the complex had rigorous security protocols and procedures and with each sector self-contained, it was unlikely that anyone other than the Administrator would know _exactly_ what happened all over the site.

Gordon wasn’t much different; clueless about the majority of the site despite his Level 3 clearance and being there for a few months. He’d seen the dormitories, the training facility, the tram station and the lab where he worked, but little else... And the place was rumoured to go on for miles.

Now a Research Associate involved in nuclear, subatomic and quantum experimentation, Gordon had not long graduated from MIT with a Ph.D in Theoretical Physics. It was by complete coincidence that Dr. Kleiner had offered him a job at Black Mesa since taking charge of a top-secret research project. It was also an opportunity he couldn’t refuse after his travels to Austria, to pursue his vocation and fuel his obsession with the teleportation of matter – the subject of his doctoral thesis – ended in disappointment. He considered himself a lucky man; not many young, enterprising graduates would get the chance he was given.

It had taken a long while to get used to being so far underground. Claustrophobia was common amongst staff and the lack of sunlight had to be rectified with an array of artificial lighting. Employees were under obligation to use recreational facilities at least three times a week to ensure their mental wellbeing was as good as their physical, which – when trapped below layers and layers of rock and concrete – was a welcome escape. Even so, wide open skies, fresh air and the sun on his face was what Gordon cherished whenever he got the chance. It made him appreciate it all so much more.

The tram steadily rolled along the track, switching from being grounded to being suspended automatically as it traversed the system. Various checkpoints were passed and it was only when they began to descend further into the bowels of the mesa that Gordon anxiously checked his watch.

_8:47 A.M._

Dr. Freeman bit the inside of his cheek, frowning at the numbers until a sudden flash of light reflected off the glass. He squinted, shifting his gaze to the window and received a brief, breathtaking view of the desert along with a rush of heat from the sun, before it was snuffed out; the car swallowed by another winding tunnel.

The minutes felt like hours and every glance spared to his watch showed time was slipping away from him. Adjusting his tie – the same damn tie that had made him late – he let out a heavy sigh.

Not long after, the car began to slow down and eventually came to a halt.

_“Now arriving at Sector C test labs and control facilities. Please stand back from the automated door and wait for the security officer to verify your identity. Before exiting the train, be sure to check your area for personal belongings. Thank you and have a very safe and productive day.”_

Blinking out of his daydream, Gordon quickly rose from his seat. This was the end of the line, emphasised aptly by the rock face ahead which made up the cavern dotted with floodlights with nothing but darkness underfoot. The suspended catwalk looked almost precarious as the security guard’s steps rang loudly against its grating.

Shuffling a little impatiently, he heard the other passengers in the car stand and join him.

“Alright, alright – hold your horses.” The guard sighed, tapping in the release code for the door which unlocked and slid open.

In a facility full of civilians, the security force had the authority to keep everyone in line, but also oversaw the safety and protection of the site and its personnel. Easily identifiable in their blue uniform with black ties, combat boots, ballistic helmets and bulletproof vests, they had been given the nickname ‘blue shirts’ amongst the lab crew. Gordon possessed the charisma and less ‘stuffy’ (as said by more than one) attitude of his peers, so he generally got along with them and stayed out of trouble. It also helped that his best friend was in the force.

He _really_ hoped he didn’t see Barney this morning. He would never hear the end of it.

Free to leave, Gordon eagerly hopped out of the car and made a beeline for the airlock.

“Looks like you’re runnin’ late, Freeman! Not that I should be surprised...”

Leaving the others behind to spare himself the reminder of his antics earlier, the airlock cycled mercifully quickly and, with a relieved sigh from its occupant, opened up to reveal the main lobby.

It was in utter chaos.

Staff fluttered around the circular room, its focal point being the map of Earth on the largest area of wall, dotted with seats. Large monitors, mounted on a pillar above the desk like a rectangular chandelier, were a mixture of activity; some offline or crashing, whilst others showed camera feeds and a diagram of the sector. The incessant ring of telephones tried to drown out conversation and instructions between those in the nearby office who couldn’t keep up. A panicking scientist was trying to – unhelpfully – assist the security officer seated at the desk who looked thoroughly stressed out.

Gordon’s relief quickly vanished as he observed the scene, slowly walking over to the circular desk. The officer lowered his chin into his palm as he leant heavily on its surface, running fingers through his flattened hair and glancing up to the approaching man.

“Oh, hey Mr. Freeman... For once you not being here on time was probably a good thing.”

“What happened?” Gordon asked, somewhat hopeful the guard’s words were right.

“Well, I had a bunch of messages for you but we had a system crash about twenty minutes ago and I’m still trying to find my files. Everything’s all up in the air and none of these ‘geniuses’ know how to fix a computer. Just one of those days, I guess.”

The scientist with the security officer scoffed and shook his head at Gordon.

“I haven’t the time to waste on some infernal machine! I’ve been waiting _two_ _weeks_ for the result of my experiment and it’s due _today_! These crashes and problems have been happening everywhere this morning, even the test chamber... But at least _they_ had someone competent enough to fix it!”

He awkwardly glanced between the two, the guard levelling his gaze at Gordon and looking as though he was resisting the urge to verbally lash out at his ‘partner’. Equally, Dr. Freeman was trying his hardest not to smirk or laugh.

“... Anyway, leave this to me and you better get your ass down to the test chamber. Make sure you grab your hazard suit on the way.”

“I’m heading there now. Don’t worry about the messages; we’ll talk about it after the test. Good luck.”

“Thanks, I think I’m gonna need it.” The officer muttered, eyeing the scientist who raised a brow as if he hadn’t just insulted his intelligence.

Not willing to get involved in their soon to be argument, Gordon escaped the disorder and lightly jogged towards the locker room to get changed.

The walls were plain concrete, only given interest thanks to lines of colour used to guide staff towards different areas like a map and the flooring was dull grey vinyl. Computers built into the walls displayed graphs, dizzying amounts of numbers and readings. The communal labs he passed were filled with apparatus, computers, desks and workstations, as well as staff conducting other research; their white boards covered with confusing equations and notes.

Gordon followed the green line trailing along the wall and after passing the rather small break room, made it to the changing area. He stepped on through the automatic door into the large locker room, the lighting giving the area a yellow-beige tint that made the place seem old and dim. A few benches were placed near each group of named doors, the lockers themselves large enough to stand in. It was quiet, aside from someone using the restroom in the corner.

The cream tiled floor squeaked quietly as he crossed it to reach his locker on the back wall. After inputting his code on the numerical keypad, the door opened.

There wasn’t much to show; hangers for clothes, a spare shirt, a couple of books, a mug and his diploma in a frame for posterity. The advertisement poster for the Black Mesa Hazard Course Decathlon caught his attention on the right wall, which had been the talk of the team for the past week. Gordon had only entered because of Barney double-daring him, but his fitness had scored him a healthy lead over the other competitors. The next round was in the evening.

The Hazard Course was built over old and disused industrial maintenance sectors of the facility, converting them into a usable space. A combined training exercise simulator and obstacle course; it was designed to measure agility, stamina, upper body strength and observational skills. Gordon’s visit in the early morning had been to familiarise himself with the protective equipment he would be using, but he couldn’t hide his nerves.

He loosened his tie and stripped off his clothing until he stood in his underwear, neatly hanging them up and placing his shoes inside. Adjusting his glasses, one palm pushed the locker door closed and his bare feet padded along the tiles to the room opposite.

The environment changed from dim and aged to bright and contemporary. Steel panels formed the walls and the cold, grated walkway made Gordon shiver with each step. Lining the back wall were three, large storage chambers on raised platforms, shielded by thick, curved glass. Above them were ventilation ducts and thick tubing, with the rest of the cylindrical structures reaching the ceiling. A small ramp led to each one.

Numbers one and three were dark; the frames in the centre of disc-shaped stands, where the suits would normally be secured, empty. Number two on the other hand was online and lit up by three small lights, bathing the unassuming hazard suit in a warm glow.

The Hazardous Environment Suit, or HEV Suit as the team referred to it, was a full body, armoured suit which protected the wearer from radiation, energy discharges and blunt-force trauma. Made from a classified list of materials and the inner workings a closely-guarded secret, the HEV was an enigma that – even in the short time of using it – astounded him. It was like something from a science fiction novel.

Rubber-like material made up the base of the black, skin-tight suit, mostly hidden underneath the armour except for the joints, abdomen, groin, lower back and rear so as not to restrict movement. Ribbed, flexible areas over the knees, shoulders, stomach and elbows allowed for more freedom but also protected the vulnerable spots with the toughened structure.

Covering the upper torso was a section that reminded him of a carapace, made from a dark, dense metal composite. It had a sleek, geometrical design – using angled plates to prevent crushing and deflect impact away from internal organs, with lapel-like bands that arced upwards to protect the vertebrae and collar bone. Its dull colour palette was broken up by orange paint on the curved rib plating and the flat, slightly raised reinforcement over the spinal areas. The inside of the carapace was cushioned with red, leather lined padding, seen around the holes for the shoulders and the base of the neck, with the skin up to the chin covered by the suit’s collar.

Protecting the biceps were close-fitting guards, which shaped to the arm to give plenty of flexibility. They provided shielding from just under the armpit to the elbow, which was mostly obscured by hollow, angled plating.

The cylindrical bracers over the forearms were similarly shaped, curving just under the elbow. They too were padded out like the carapace, not only cushioning the arms and wrists but also creating an airtight seal at the openings at either end. Leathery-rubber gloves with plates on the knuckles and three on the back of the hand finished the upper half. Aside from the material the gloves were made from, all of the metal reflected the same orange on the carapace.

In comparison, the lower half was mostly encased in orange alloy and left little of the suit exposed, with hip and pelvic plates, thigh guards and armoured boots.

The greaves covering the front of the shin contoured around the arch of the foot, ankle and heel. A vertical strip of composite, fixed by two steel finished brackets had been set in the middle of the arrow-shaped, indented areas in the centre of the plating. The rest of the dark grey, sturdy boots cupped under the back of the knee.

Curiously, the only significant – if slightly worn – decoration on the suit was the Greek letter Lambda (λ) surrounded by a ring, painted yellow on a large, trapezoid-shaped orange panel. It took pride of place in the top-centre of the carapace between the lapels, just above the on board computer system.

Despite all of these layers of protection the suit wasn’t bulky, still retaining a slim profile with the thickness of the metal not exceeding an inch at a guess. Gordon thought it looked imposing even _with_ the orange paint job, which he originally disliked. The second time around? He was starting to think it was kind of cool.

Gordon stared at the suit anxiously, knowing what was coming this time which probably made it worse. The terminal before the railing waited for input, showing the status of each chamber on individual screens. According to number two, lit up in green unlike the others which were red, the suit was charged, cleaned and ready to deploy. Closing his eyes and exhaling, he placed his palm upon the scanner.

Black Mesa’s VOX Automatic Diagnostic and Announcement system spoke through the speaker on the terminal; a deep, computerised male voice droning back at him.

**_G.FREEMAN. AUTHORISATION IS COMPLETE._ **

A bleep came from the chamber and the glass shield rose after it depressurised. The stand the suit was fixed upon rotated to face away from Gordon to show the back of it. The HEV waited, tethered by wires and held firm by the frame so it remained still whilst the wearer got inside. Slowly, he moved towards it – skittish as if it was alive – and he inwardly scoffed at his own behaviour.

_It’s just a suit. Get a grip, Gordon._

Shaking it off, he took long strides to the ramp and climbed up, starting to feel the cold getting to him. Face to face with the HEV now, he hesitated before reaching for the carapace’s left side, just underneath the arm. It pried away and gently swung open on unseen hinges to reveal the back of the suit which he unzipped to hip level.

Gordon eased a leg up, slipping his foot into the pant leg until it found the boot. The other shortly followed and he shuffled about to get comfortable – toes wriggling within the boot’s confines.

About as settled as he could manage, he forced his shaking hands through the sleeves and into the gloves, before reaching back to close the zips on each layer to secure his body inside. It was a little awkward, but with perseverance and the right angle it was doable. Thankfully no one could see his no doubt ridiculous-looking bending.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Gordon inhaled deeply and held it in his lungs. He eased the carapace shut, body clenching.

 _“It’s the shock that gets people.”_ Dr. Gina Cross, his trainer, had warned him in her holographic presence.

_“Just take a deep breath and wait.”_

Suddenly, the suit came to life as the carapace tightly secured itself around him with a loud clamp, a whirr and a hiss; taking his breath away with the pressure centred on his ribcage. Further increases in pressure encompassed the muscles of his arms and legs, stimulating them and making him wince. It was not comfortable, but this was normal.

_“The suit will adjust to your body. The pressure around your organs and muscles is there to protect them and it does at first feel like you’re being crushed. It won’t kill you, Doctor Freeman, but you need to remain calm.”_

After what felt like an agonising length of time, the suit powered up with two, short, droning beeps. A female computerised voice spoke slowly and smoothly, leaving noticeable gaps between words.

_'Welcome to the H.E.V mark IV protective system, for use in hazardous environment conditions. High impact reactive armour: activated. Atmospheric containment sensors: activated. Vital sign monitoring: activated. Automatic medical systems: engaged. Communications interface: online. Have a very safe day.'_

The wires uncoupled and were reeled up into the ceiling, with the frame releasing the suit from its embrace shortly after, leaving Gordon free to move. Taking a few shallow gulps of air and feeling the pressure easing at last, he looked himself over and flexed his fingers – the tough gloves creaking in response. It was surprisingly snug even if he had regarded it as ‘clunky’ before, upsetting Cross in the process.

Nodding to himself and turning to walk down the steps, he felt the thick-gripped boots with their metal lining clank against the flooring. It sounded heavy and it probably was, but he didn’t feel as weighed down as he anticipated. In fact, he could have sworn it was lighter than the first time.

Thinking he had wasted enough time by now, he made his way out of the locker room. It was going to be a walk before he got to the test chamber, giving him a chance to adjust to his new ‘skin’ for the day.

The suit turned a few heads as he passed. Only two others in the sector had the training he now did – the missing suits used by both Dr. Cross and Dr. Colette Green respectively. They might have been his closest team members, considering their shared endeavours, but he had never met them properly due to very differing schedules; a fleeting chat was all they could afford if they just happened to see him.

With no more distractions to deal with, Gordon calmly – but with haste –followed the blue line along the wall this time, which guided him to the security door leading into the development labs.

Well, almost no distractions.

In the office to his left he witnessed one of the lead scientists talking to a black haired man in a dark blue suit carrying a suitcase. They looked to be having a heated debate, but the thick glass muffled the words. As if sensing he was being watched, the suited man slowly looked towards Gordon and stared at him with piercing, icy blue eyes. Quite surprised by the reaction, Gordon stared back. There was almost recognition in the man’s gaunt, pallid face and the faintest of smirks appeared.

Gordon felt a shiver run through him but he wasn’t entirely sure why. Something about that smirk gave him a horrible feeling of _dread_. He’d never met the man in his life – what made him so unsettled?

The stare lasted a few seconds until the scientist noticed and quickly closed the blinds, breaking the uncomfortable moment much to Gordon’s relief.

_Who the hell was that? I’ve never seen him around here before... He gives me the creeps._

Shaking his head, he hastily walked away from the office and was greeted by the guard on post.

“Hey, doc. Looks like you’re in the barrel today. They’ve been waiting for you for a while now, but don’t let them put you down. Everyone is stressed out this morning.” He smiled, turning to the retinal scanner and leaning into it.

A few bleeps sounded and the doors slid open.

“Thanks, Wilson.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. Oh, if you see Barney around can you tell him he still owes me that money? Slippery bastard’s been avoiding me ever since.”

“Sure. I haven’t seen him yet but I’ll remind him.”

“You’re a champ.” Wilson beamed, moving to take his spot again.

Gordon smiled and headed on through into a large circular junction.

A small lab with glass walls greeted him on his left with people busy at work. The central shaft for the industrial-sized elevator was sparsely decorated with posters and screens promoting security and safety, job offerings and advertisement for other sectors. Luckily, the elevator had just been used and the doors were still open. He quickly ducked inside.

It was a long way down. The elevator’s hum gave him something to focus on as he tried to get used to the suit adjusting itself every now and then with his movements. He couldn’t stop thinking about the man from earlier and he was definitely going to ask Kleiner about it when this test was over and done with. Normally a staring competition wouldn’t faze him, but those piercing eyes kept appearing in his mind.

_You’re thinking about it too much. There are more important things going on than some weird guy in a suit. Focus, Gordon._

“Yeah...”

With a thud and a judder, the elevator came to a stop and allowed him to exit.

The appearance of the place changed from drab and sterile office to bare metal, ventilation shafts, pipe work, wires and large work lamps. Practicality before beauty was the theme in the lower levels and it wasn’t as if they were going to have any visitors down there so it needn’t look pretty. Gordon didn’t mind that – in fact he preferred it.

A couple of colleagues were drinking coffee and discussing the chaos upstairs, one of them running a diagnostic on a machine which must have been upset by the system crash. The other glanced at Gordon, then back to his friend.

“Well, would you look at that? Gordon Freeman actually bothered to come to work today. Looks like you owe me lunch.”

“Damn it... I mean, hello, Doctor Freeman.”

Gordon gave the pair a small frown, heading through the double sliding doors as they snickered at their inside joke. He really was the talk of the place today and for once Barney had played no part in it.

The faintly domed hallway was dotted with a line of breakers, cooling systems and regulators, with scientists keeping watch, muttering to each other and making notes. Tubes of thick glass ran along the right wall, containing bright red lines of high-powered lasers which pulsed gently. Two maintenance team members were working on some wiring underneath the flooring nearby. Small greetings were given but he didn’t slow down, seeing the test lab control room up ahead.

The door slid open and the three scientists all rose to their feet in anticipation, looking a mixture of relieved and irritable at the sight of Gordon. He tensed, but tried to remain professional.

“Finally! Doctor Freeman, what time do you call this? We have been waiting forever for you to turn up!” The weedy, irritable one sneered.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that. I’m glad to see you’re here in one piece, Gordon. I was about to send out a search party for you. We just now sent the sample down to the test chamber.” A messy-haired but soft spoken elderly gentleman interrupted.

“Yes... We boosted the Anti-Mass Spectrometer by one-hundred and five percent. It’s a bit of a gamble, but we need the extra resolution.” The balding man with glasses muttered.

“Hmph, well, I don’t know about you two but there is a lot riding on this. The Administrator is very concerned that we get a conclusive analysis on the sample and I for one want to keep my job by the end of today.” The irritable one glared at Gordon before finding his seat at the control desk, fiddling with some switches and knobs.

The soft-spoken man muttered lowly, seeing the apologetic look on Gordon’s face.

“Don’t take it to heart, young man, there’s just a lot riding on this one and Kleiner’s reputation is on the line. I imagine the Administrator went through some lengths to get that sample and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t leave here satisfied today.”

Gordon raised a brow. Dr. Wallace Breen – the reclusive Administrator, head of the facility – rarely, if ever, showed much interest in their work. At least that was what Dr. Kleiner told him. His only meeting with the man was for a company photograph not long after he joined, which was ‘edited’ later.

Questions would unfortunately have to wait as he was quickly ushered to the opposite door. The balding scientist was already using the retinal scanner to let him through.

“Now, you’re gonna be fine. Go and report to Kleiner downstairs and he’ll direct you to the chamber.”

“R-right.” Gordon quickly nodded, the door sliding open for him.

“Keep your chin up, son! We’re about to make history, I’m sure of it!”

With a hefty slap on the back, Gordon stumbled through the door and into the small alcove behind the control room. A thud came from the door which closed automatically and he was left alone again with a double door down a ramp before him. He headed on through, hoping the scientist didn’t just break his hand on the suit.

No sooner as he turned the corner into the monitoring station, a familiar voice rang out in greeting.

“Gordon! There you are, my boy! Where on earth have you been?”

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, grinning wide and looking as cheerful as ever, approached with his arms out in warm welcome. His hair was beginning to grey and the top of his head was completely bald, but he somehow kept some of his youthful features to his pale face. Gordon assumed it was stress that had made him lose hair so quickly, as the man was never still.

“Kleiner. Sorry I’m late.”

Kleiner laughed heartily and slapped Gordon’s arm gently.

“You know what they say – better late than never! You’re going to get me into a lot of trouble, you know, but if today goes as well as planned then we won’t have to worry any longer! Come, come. Eli has been making some final adjustments before the experiment.”

Adjusting his thick rimmed glasses, Kleiner led him to the back of the room where his colleague waited. On the right were three, individually-contained plasma cells, white-hot and shimmering over the glass. On the left were the pair’s labs filled with prototypes that Gordon was never allowed to touch. The walkway above was lined with wires and machinery, along with other delicate instruments. A glass window on the far wall showed an office where a few scientists – two men and a woman – were having a coffee break.

“Hey Izzy! Hey Gordon!” Eli called, waving the two over.

Eli Vance was Kleiner’s best friend and closest colleague who lived at the facility with his wife and baby daughter. He was a kindly, African American man with short dark hair and greying edges, a well-trimmed goatee and – perhaps the most unusual feature – one blue eye and one brown eye. He had taken rather quickly to Gordon once he had arrived and the three had a great working relationship.

“It’s good to see you, Doctor Vance.” Gordon smiled.

“’Doctor Vance’ now is it? You don’t have to be so formal, hah! No, no. Just Eli will do, Gordon. We’re on a first name basis now, right?”

Gordon chuckled, nodding. Eli had a great sense of humour and that was probably why Gordon got along with him so well. Sporting a winning grin to the younger scientist, it quickly faded as he looked to Kleiner.

“Now, uh, Izzy. I’m glad I caught you.” Eli began, his tone turning serious.

Professionalism returned to the three immediately and Gordon’s smile turned into a worried frown. Kleiner blinked, also turning worried.

“Oh? Is something wrong?”

“Well, it’s these last minute changes... They’re a bit strange and just –“

Before Eli could finish, the console behind and to his left suddenly sparked violently. A small explosion blew the doors open, shattering the viewing window and startling the three men. It was overheating and was dangerously verging on starting an electrical fire or worse.

“It’s about to go critical!” Eli cried, running over and quickly hitting buttons and switches to regulate the fluctuation.

Gordon and Kleiner jogged over to try and help, but Eli’s quick thinking had saved the day. Melting wires and metal panels aside, it wasn’t about to blow up anytime soon. A collected sigh of relief came from all three of them.

“What in blazes is going on with our equipment?” Kleiner asked, surveying the damage.

Eli panted heavily from his brief scare, resting his hands on his knees. Gordon glanced up to see the scientists on their coffee break staring out of the window at the commotion.

“It... It was never meant to do this in the first place.” He said raggedly, catching his breath.

Kleiner walked over to comfort his friend, checking him over like a worried parent.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle ourselves, Eli. Not to worry.” He said with his ever-present optimism, looking to Gordon.

“You better run along, Gordon. We’ll be but a moment. Please, use the elevator there and head down to the chamber.”

“Are you sure?” Gordon asked with concern, looking to Eli.

“Yeah, do as Izzy says, Gordon. Don’t let this old man keep you. I’ll be fine.” He offered a small reassuring smile.

As the two moved to inspect the smoking console, Gordon reluctantly turned and walked to the elevator at the other side of the room. He didn’t want to leave them after that, but he still had a job to do.

Hitting the button, the doors opened and allowed him entry. He stepped inside, turning to see the two scientists talking to each other, though they quickly vanished as the elevator rotated on a corkscrew to descend the shaft.

Compared to before, this was a very short trip.

If the upper floor was thought to be impressive with their collection of technology and electronics, then the lower one was simply mind blowing. The heavier machinery – the guts of the highly advanced equipment he was getting closer to – was housed here, requiring multiple science teams to run and control them. Safety was the highest priority and when working with lethal levels of voltage and photon beams, there was nothing that was left unattended or unmonitored.

Staring at screens and dials, few greeted Gordon as they communicated back to the control room via headsets. Two in the corridor leading to the security desk did exchange nods before taking notes on the readings a monitor was showing.

Just around the corner, that very desk waited for him, as did the door to his final destination. The security guard looked up from his computer and smiled at Gordon, knowing him well enough by now.

“Oh there you are! Everyone’s been looking for you, hombre. Let me get the door.”

After typing something on the keyboard, the door released and slid upwards. Gordon dipped his chin and stepped inside, not lingering for small-talk.

The two head scientists waiting by the entrance to the test chamber– Banner and Wilkes – were chattering amongst themselves up until the door opened and then closed behind their suited colleague. The imposing blast door made up most of the wall on the left, with two retinal scanners either side.

“Ah, here he is...” Banner said sourly, impatient as ever.

Clearing his throat quietly, Gordon took his place before the two men who stared him down with obvious annoyance, until Wilkes broke the tense silence.

“Right. I’m afraid we’ll be deviating a bit from standard analysis procedures today, Gordon.”

Banner waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. An air of arrogance radiated from the elder man and he never hid his dislike for the younger associate; looking down his nose at him even now. Eli tried to convince Gordon that he was like that to everyone, but there was definitely a personal grudge.

“Yes, yes, but with good reason. This is a rare opportunity for us. This is the purest sample we’ve seen yet.”

Wilkes frowned as he was cut off, folding his arms and giving Banner a glare. Gordon got the impression he didn’t like him either.

“And potentially the most unstable.”

“Bah. So long as we follow standard insertion procedures, everything will be fine.” Banner interjected, unconvinced.

“I don’t know how you can say that.” Wilkes bit back, making Banner glare at him.

At that, the other scientist appeared to back down a little. Maybe there was a thinly veiled threat in that harsh gaze of his? He quickly changed his tune regardless.

“Although I will admit the possibility of a resonance cascade scenario is extremely unlikely. I just don’t think –“

Eager to stop Wilkes from running his mouth any further, or so it seemed to Gordon, Banner quickly looked to the associate.

“The boy doesn’t need to hear all this; he’s a highly trained professional – or so Kleiner seems to _think_ anyway. I remain unconvinced. Regardless, we’ve assured the Administrator that _nothing_ will go wrong.”

Gordon’s lips twitched in irritation and he bristled slightly at the demeaning tone in his voice, but decided to brush it off.

_Asshole._

Wilkes – perhaps eager to get out of both the room and situation – quickly nodded.

“Y-yes, yes. You’re right, of course, Dr. Banner. We have complete confidence in you, Gordon. I’m sure you’ll perform amicably.”

Banner rolled his eyes, turning towards the scanner nearest to him.

“Just let him in.”

“Yes, right away.”

Wilkes jogged over to the other scanner and the two pressed their faces close to the cameras simultaneously. After a few seconds, the two scanners bleeped in tandem and the heavy door slowly whirred open. It was thick enough to withstand a bomb blast and fireproof, which only hinted of the potential danger lurking on the other side.

Steeling himself and refusing to show how anxious he was in front of Banner, Gordon strode into the test chamber. The door slowly closed behind him until bolting shut, creating an echoing thud around the enormous space.

Silence followed.

In the centre, attached to the ceiling via pipes, wires and metal supports, was the giant Anti-Mass Spectrometer. It was a room-sized piece of equipment based on the smaller thing, but instead used for scanning and analysing exotic matter of negative mass. The amount of power needed to run it was vast and for this reason it was only used in certain circumstances. It could literally shut down the whole sector if they weren’t careful.

Wilson hadn’t been lying when he joked about Gordon being in a barrel, the shape of the walls resembled just that. Having a brassy tint to them, they spiralled upwards in a dizzying manner. Panels were dotted in certain sections of the room surrounding the Spectrometer and a web of wires above the dormant laser hung ready to feed it.

Built into the floor was the other half of the machine; three, crane-like arms surrounded a circular plate with a hole in the centre. They bent inward like spider legs with conductors on their inside limbs to create a concentrated field when brought together. A lowered runway – used for the transport and delivery of specimens – ran from a purpose-built gap between the arms to a lift surrounded by a cage at the end.

Gordon felt tiny compared to this thing, overshadowing him like a behemoth. High above was the window to the control room protected by metal blinds.

A screech of feedback over the intercom made him flinch.

“Testing... Testing.” The irritable scientist’s voice from earlier came through and he cleared his throat.

“Everything seems to be in order.”

Catching himself after his brief scare, Gordon waited for instructions. The soft-spoken scientist’s voice was heard next.

“Alright, Gordon, your suit should keep you comfortable through all this. The specimen will be delivered to you in a few moments. Now, if you would be so good as to climb up and start the rotors, we can bring the Anti-Mass Spectrometer to eighty percent and hold it there until the carrier arrives.”

One of the spotlights turned on, showing him the ladder on the far side of the chamber leading to a platform.

Gordon jogged over to the ladder, avoiding any of the raised flooring. If he was going to make Dr. Banner eat his own tie by the end of this, he wanted to do it right with no mistakes.

Gripping the rungs firmly, he began to climb. He thought he was gaining some considerable height and yet the machine still loomed over him. There was nothing but painful silence, only being disturbed by his actions. He could almost _feel_ the anticipation from the others watching him closely.

Once reaching the top, Gordon stepped onto the platform and walked to the terminal at the end. The screen transmitted a live camera feed of the crew within the control room, giving him a glimpse of the concentration on their faces. The independent station had already been set up ahead of time; all that was left was to turn it on.

Pushing a button didn’t seem like a pressing task requiring so much prep, but he was going to be the one delivering the sample by hand. This was the easy part.

A bleep came from the button as it was pressed.

The beast awoke, steam coming from the hydraulics as the three large rotors were released from the body of the machine and lowered to hang below the laser’s glass focus. They began to rotate along the track, keeping a three-point pattern. Below, the arms raised and leant backwards in readiness.

Gordon moved away from the terminal and stood by the railing to watch. As much as it made him nervous, he was also fascinated. This was the only machine of its type in the entire facility he’d been told – perhaps the entire globe. Just to see it _not_ operating was a privilege.

“Very good. We’ll take it from here. Please refrain from touching the controls.”

As the rotors spun faster, they began to charge with power and the machine started to rumble, getting ready to start its firing sequence. The whole room began to vibrate and Gordon could feel it through the platform, making his body shake.

Bolts of high-energy plasma sprung from each rotor to coalesce in the centre, being conducted into the filament for the laser. A low hum was heard as it glowed brighter and brighter until it couldn’t be seen any longer.

“Power to stage one emitters in three, two, one...”

The hum increased in volume and a flash came from the laser as it sparked into life – firing a thin beam into the hole in the middle of the plate below. Gordon raised a hand to cover his eyes, still eager to watch even if it did hurt to see.

With the rotors speeding up their rotation, the strength and power of the machine was much more easily felt. The vibration had become a full on quake, rattling the platform and the poor associate standing on it. It was intense but still bearable, especially since the HEV was keeping him grounded.

“I’m seeing predictable phase arrays. Very good. Stage two emitters activating... Now.”

A further three bolts sprung from the emitters in the bottom of the rotors, joining the point of the phase beam at the centre plate. Despite the almost severe sight of how much the Spectrometer was sucking in energy and pumping it back out, it hadn’t reached capacity yet.

The soft-spoken, now much firmer sounding scientist spoke over the speaker.

“Gordon, we can’t predict how long the system can operate at this level, or how long the readings will take. Please, work as quickly as you can.”

Gordon nodded over to the control room’s window, giving them a thumbs up. He received one in return and seeing that as his go-ahead, moved to descend the ladder in readiness for the sample’s delivery. It was a lot more difficult with everything shaking, but he managed to land on his feet.

Now closer, he could feel the heat coming from the beams of orange light, trying to avoid looking directly at them and remaining at a safe distance.

“Overhead capacitors at one oh five percent.”

“Uh, it’s probably not a problem, probably, but I’m showing a small discrepancy in... Well, no, it’s well within acceptable bounds again. Sustaining sequence.” The irritable man’s voice was full of nerves.

Gordon cast a wary glance up to the machine, which was working at full throttle. The centre cylinder past the shell was spinning rapidly and pushing hard to keep the mammoth, man made creation operational. If they kept it up like this for too long, it could potentially overload.

That harrowing thought was quickly thrown out as the soft-spoken voice spoke directly to him once more.

“I’ve just been informed that the sample is ready, Gordon. It should be coming up to you any moment now. Look at the delivery system for your specimen.”

The lights on top of the cage at the end of the runway flashed and a cart with robotic arms rose on an elevator from the floor below. When the cage lowered, it revealed the bright orange, crystal-like substance which was held firmly in the arm’s grasp. Gordon took a moment to observe it but with the strained sounds coming from the Spectrometer, regained focus quickly.

He moved around the back of the cart, took the handle with both hands and pushed it towards the beams of plasma ahead. The heat got hotter and hotter; the light brighter and brighter and by the time the crystal reached the plate he had to keep his eyes closed.

“Standard procedure... For a non-standard specimen.”

As the beam hit the sample, the material reacted and florescent green forks of electricity arced all around the machine. They only just missed Gordon as he stumbled backwards, screaming out in both fear and surprise.

The loudspeaker came alive with panicked voices, mixing together.

“Woah!”

“What the – what’s happening!?”

“Gordon, get away from there!”

Wild, errant bolts flung across the room, hitting the walls and bouncing off the panels before centring on the machine itself. They struck the rotors and the Spectrometer gave out a violent crack in response, electrical discharge surging through it.

Gordon, having backed as far away as he could and now huddling against the wall for a lack of anywhere else to hide, simply stared in horror.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

The conductor arms raised and met in the middle as the sequence intended, conducting the foreign energy and the still-firing beam, focusing it back into the crystal which now radiated the same colour as the arcs springing from it. With such a high volume of power running through the conductors they quickly overheated and distorted the field, causing the flow of energy to reverse.

Instead of the beam hitting the specimen, it was deflected back into the Spectrometer at a supercharged level. Viciously, the green beam began to bore into the machine, causing it to spark and overheat; its metal shell, frame and central shaft turning red.

It wasn’t stopping.

“Someone get him out of there and shut it down! Now!”

“Shutting down – no – it’s... It’s attempting to shut down. It’s not—“

“IT’S NOT SHUTTING DOWN!”

One of the arms’ conductors exploded after being partially melted. The next one followed it shortly after.

Unable to contain the field with two arms missing, it collapsed and the last conductor was not only melted, but the arm was thrown backwards and off its hydraulic hinge. It flung into one of the walls by the force like it was a toy, severely crumpling the area. Thankfully it wasn’t the one Gordon was next to.

The sample was vaporised in its own heat but the damage had already been done. As the flow of energy returned to normal, the laser’s focus cracked and sent a refracted beam of green plasma directly overhead and through the control room’s window, shattering it.

“It’s – AHHHHHHH!”

A cacophony of screams came from the staff over the intercom before it cut out.

Pieces of concrete and metal rubble poured down around Gordon but he remained where he was. He was paralysed with fear, hardly breathing and coming to terms with his imminent death. He could barely hear the alarm over his own rapid heartbeat. The blast doors remained shut. He couldn’t get out even if he tried.

He was trapped.

Completely out of control and overloading, the Spectrometers’ still-rotating focus fired green beams towards different areas of the room as more arcs of electricity flew outwards. They burnt and melted everything they touched. The machine rattled and screeched – steam and smoke pouring from its vents and tubes.

Small eruptions of green light appeared in random spots, above and at ground level. None of them got close enough to Gordon, but in the very brief moments they existed he could have sworn he saw _something_ in them. Perhaps his terror was playing tricks on him, or the intensity of the light was confusing his brain.

They came and went in waves, dotted around the chamber at erratic intervals. For a second he thought he saw a _creature_ appear at height, then fall, only to disappear once more.

An explosion from some part of the machine made the ground tremble, pipes coming away and bending. The quake was beginning to cause some integrity damage on the ceiling and parts of the walls.

All at once, the beams stopped firing, the plasma coalescing again in the middle of the rotors.

Although there were no visible warning signs, Gordon felt a deep, sickening sensation of dread in the pit of his stomach. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Somehow, he knew it was targeting him, his body reacting to it like it was a magnet.

Before he had a chance to say his final words on Earth, the beam fired and showered him in blinding green light, the screeching sound of electricity the last thing he heard.

Everything went dark.

A steady thump broke the silence, along with shallow breaths.

Light returned again and so did the room, the noise rushing in as if he had been underwater. He was no longer next to the wall, but lying on the floor on his side.

With blurry vision, he looked up at the machine that was now worse than ever. The beam was tearing into the panels and ripping them from the walls, pipes were falling from the ceiling and rubble was raining down on the platform with loud, screeching clanks. The Spectrometer was spitting heat, but showed no signs of stopping.

As if sensing his presence, the plasma gathered once more and formed what almost resembled some sort of gateway, before it fired at him again.

“N—“

In a blink, he was someplace else.

The chamber and the machine were gone and instead replaced with what looked to be a cave, stalactites hanging from above. He lay on a patch of dirt, with some sort of bioluminescent plant breaking through the darkness growing next to his head, which he could just about see in his peripheral vision.

Groaning quietly, feeling quite disorientated and queasy, he remained still. From his position he could see more plant life illuminating the walls and a pool of what he thought was water, only it glowed brightly and reflected ripples of light over the rocks. Some sort of animal was drinking from it, but he couldn’t make out what. Another joined it on the other side. They hadn’t noticed him, but he was much closer than he would have liked to be.

With a green flash, the scene disappeared and he suddenly found himself standing up. He gasped, looking around and discovered he was now in a cavernous tunnel instead. The pool and animals were gone. More strange plants grew amongst jagged rocks, some like thorns curling in all directions and others resembling exotic fungi. Small, weed-like growths with bulbous, glowing sacs hung almost top-heavy to look at, but on closer inspection they were _moving_.

Before Gordon could make sense of his new surroundings, something walked towards him.

It was somewhat humanoid, with very long arms and two digitigrade legs which ended in feet consisting of a single claw at the front and two smaller ones at the back. As it stepped closer to the light of the foliage, he could make out its mottled green-brown, leathery skin and hunched body. It was mostly naked aside from strange devices around its wrists and neck which resembled shackles and a collar made from greenish metal. The large eye in the centre of its rounded head was bright red with a yellow pupil and maroon sclera. Three smaller eyes in an arc above it shared the same appearance.

The creature’s eyes stared at him as it drew closer and – as Gordon observed it – he noticed it had a third, two-clawed hand growing from the centre of its chest. It stopped a few feet away, tilting its head. He couldn’t see its mouth, just a row of sharp teeth sticking out from the underside of its jaw like an overbite. The tubular ears on the sides of its skull shifted slightly and it turned away to look behind it.

It spoke in a language he couldn’t understand.

As it turned back to him, three more of the creatures stepped out of the darkness. They responded back in the same guttural speech, standing with their companion, looking completely identical to each other.

Gordon stared at the group of what he could only describe as _aliens_ , still not entirely sure if he was alive, dead or somewhere in-between. Maybe he was dreaming? Perhaps he was still in bed back in the dormitory and all of this was some terrible nightmare?

The first one bowed its head and brought its hands together, as if respectful to the trio, and then they all began to approach him.

Gordon took a cautious step back, feeling threatened.

“What are you – what do you want from me? Where am I?” Fear rang clear in his voice, somewhat strained.

They didn’t reply, continuing their advance. Gordon tried to retreat but his legs were suddenly locked in place and refused to budge. He was convinced the creatures had done something to him.

“Stay away!” He cried, struggling to free himself.

The four gathered around in front of him, standing just above him in height. Their many eyes appeared to scrutinise him from head to toe. The respectful, almost submissive one of the group stayed on the right. It spoke again, the words slow and gravelly, bowing its head whilst watching the one on the left which stared back wordlessly. The remaining two stood together behind them.

Not knowing what was being said and their invasive mannerisms made the experience far worse. He couldn’t move or defend himself, his whole body turning rigid as if frozen. For all Gordon knew, they could have been discussing who was going to eat him first. With how malnourished they looked, that was rapidly becoming believable.

Without warning, the silent one on the left and the meek one on the right stepped forward, raising their clawed hands and reaching to grab him.

Helpless, Gordon screamed.

Everything went black, his voice echoing into the void.


	2. Unforeseen Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon wakes up to find that not all is well and things are going from bad to worse. Left with a hefty responsibility, his only goal is to make it out alive.

It was the blaring of the alarm that woke him.

Eyes opening, Gordon saw the chamber’s cracked ceiling from under heavy lids. He blinked slowly, then again, waiting for the blur to fade away.

_'Warning: minor head trauma detected. Morphine administered.'_

The HEV’s voice confirmed it. He was alive. He wasn’t sure how, but he was alive.

Fingers slid over the metal floor to find some grip and he gingerly began to push himself up. His head was spinning from both dizziness and ache – the back of his skull on fire from the hit it took when he was probably thrown to the floor.

With some effort he was back on his feet, groaning and sore, but still breathing.

The chamber was a catastrophic mess. What was left of the Spectrometer after it exploded hung dangerously from its dislodged mounting and still-attached pipes. Most of it was littering the floor, hunks of metal, casing and wires now no better than scrap. The remaining two metal arms were crushed under debris and torn away from their hinges.

Thick smoke from electrical fires filled the area. Some pieces of the machine were letting off sparks even now and the one remaining rotor sent out small pulses of weaker – but still quite deadly – voltage.

Stepping over pieces of wall, ceiling and who knew what else, Gordon sluggishly made his way to the blast door which had definitely not withstood the impact; partially melted and wedged ajar. At least he wasn’t trapped any longer, which he would have been more grateful about if he wasn’t suffering from the worst headache imaginable.

His dizzy spells made getting over the half-closed blast door more difficult than it needed to be, almost falling inside the room as opposed to climbing. He fought through it, determined to leave the damn chamber even if it killed him. That place was _not_ going to be his grave.

He stumbled into the wall near the damaged retinal scanner, growling in frustration, before clawing himself towards the door.

It didn’t open.

Gordon eyed the scanner irritably, before slamming the plated guard on his forearm against the damaged screen. It broke under the strength of both the suit and wearer, sending sparks to the floor and short circuiting.

The door made a whirring noise, struggling to cycle and only opening half way. It was better than nothing.

With a sigh he lowered himself to a crouch and crawled through the gap, finally making it out of that death trap.

Or so he had hoped.

Near the desk, a scientist was performing CPR on the same security guard who gave him access earlier. Blood had pooled around the back of his head. He was motionless.

“One... Two... Three... Four... Five...”

The dizziness and pain began to ease, no doubt because of the morphine. Gordon found it easier to stand this time.

The lights were all out and the tiny auxiliary lamps on the ceiling were only illuminating the way partially. Most weren’t working at all. Every alarm in the vicinity was ringing, but he couldn’t hear any other voices in the background.

Gordon moved closer to the two, but the scientist didn’t respond. He was transfixed on repeating the CPR over and over.

He hadn’t registered that the man was dead.

“One... Two... Three...”

Swallowing dryly, Gordon didn’t have the heart to tell him that his efforts were worthless. He figured he would be safer where he was for the time being and so left him be, not knowing what the extent of the damage was just yet.

He was about to find out.

Broken pipes on the walls let out jets of steam which created an eerie fog the flashing red lights tried to penetrate. It was too dark to see far enough, until the HEV’s flashlight – mounted on the computer’s panel – lit up automatically. Gordon took a tentative step forward, seeing the body of a scientist laying face-down. Dead or not, he wanted to at least check.

The breaker close by exploded, sending out flames and sparks. Yelping, Gordon reeled back and the heavy equipment toppled over to land directly on the body. It was thoroughly crushed, blood seeping from underneath.

If they _had_ been alive, they weren’t any longer.

Fear rocked him but his need to get out pushed him onward, keeping away from the fires and other machines he passed in case they too exploded. Debris had fallen in through the ceiling, smashing into one of the terminals and sending it to the floor. Flames began to spread around it, leaving him no choice but to climb over.

He considered going back for the scientist, but there was a worry that he would end up pulling them through more danger. Trying to ignore his nagging conscience, he decided to scout out the rest of the floor to find survivors before returning.

Sadly he had no such luck. Everyone was gone, dead or missing. The corridor at the other end had partially collapsed and he thought he could see an arm sticking out of the rubble. His blood ran cold.

_There’s nothing you can do for them, Gordon. You need to find Isaac and Eli._

Having little other options, Gordon pulled himself away from the sight and jogged to the elevator down the adjacent path. Rubble and junk had been thrown to the floor around it and he had to pry the worst of it aside before he could get in through the jammed-open door.

Graciously, the damn thing still worked.

It was a welcome relief to see both Dr. Vance and Dr. Kleiner in the same spot he left them, albeit in a darkened, mostly ruined room. Everything was either broken, fallen over or barely functioning, but a couple of the lights were still on. Notably, the plasma cells were no more – leaving the three containers empty with one shattered.

Gordon pushed the stiff doors open, stepping on shattered glass from the window above as he approached. The pair didn’t hear him over the din of the alarms ringing, but he could just hear Eli’s voice as he spoke to Isaac, who was sitting on the floor with his knees raised and looking distraught.

“Why wouldn’t they listen? We tried to warn them...”

“I never thought I’d _see_ a resonance cascade, let alone _create_ one.”

Dr. Kleiner sighed, cleaning his glasses lenses with his lab coat. He put them back on and finally noticed Gordon was standing there, staring at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

“By Schrödinger’s cat – he’s alive!”

Eli turned to see what he was looking at, gasping in surprise.

“Gordon!” They both cried in unison.

Kleiner stood up and – along with Eli – embraced the suited associate tightly. Gordon was a bit taken back by the gesture, slowly raising his gloved hands to return it.

“Thank god for that hazard suit.” Eli sighed in relief.

“I... I thought the worst when I heard the explosion. I’m so glad to see you’re alright.” Kleiner’s voice softened and Gordon thought he heard him choke, but he quickly cleared his throat.

The two released him, checking him over with concern. Gordon felt just as relieved but there was a harrowed look on his face he couldn’t mask. Eli was the first to break the silence as Kleiner crossed his arms and adjusted his glasses out of nervous habit.

“Gordon... Were there any survivors?”

“Just... Just one.”

“We’ll get to him. For now, we need to figure out how to get out of here. All of our phones are out – I can’t reach anyone in the facility. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re the only one of us capable enough to make it to the surface in one piece. Someone needs to know we’re stranded down here.”

Gordon blinked, feeling the full weight of responsibility being thrust upon his shoulders. He opened his mouth to interject but stopped as Eli continued. When that man had a plan it was wise to let him finish, something which he had learnt well.

“But you’ll need to be careful. There’s no telling what danger there is out –“

A flash of green light – just like those from the test chamber – appeared inside the middle plasma cell container, cutting the conversation off with a yell from all three men. Gordon immediately looked for some sort of cover, still suffering from horrible flashbacks of the Spectrometer, but it was over as quickly as it came.

Skittishly, the trio turned towards the source and took small, tentative steps over to it. _Something_ was trapped beyond the glass. It was alive.

“My god... What have we done?” Eli uttered, voice shaking in disbelief.

Kleiner was the first to get close – too curious for his own good, Gordon thought – and was utterly bewildered by the strange being that was around the size of a pumpkin.

As Gordon ventured nearer, he could see that it had four, crab-like legs attached to its pale, fleshy body. There were no visible eyes, but the way it moved as they got close proved it could sense them nearby. The front legs were far longer, ending in menacing, hooked talons, whilst the rear legs were stubby with two claws for feet. Its four grotesque mandibles, in-between two long fangs, rubbed against each other.

Perhaps understandably, Gordon shuddered and retreated. As a scientist one would think he would be overjoyed to discover a new species, especially extra terrestrial, but something about the creature disturbed him just as much as the ones he saw in that cave. It had “wrong” written all over it.

“Fascinating... Would you look at that? Eli! Eli, look at this! I wonder where its stomach is. I can’t see the underbelly. Hello, you. Can you understand me?” Kleiner asked, tapping the surface of the container. The crab-like thing nudged the glass with its ‘head’.

Eli sighed and rubbed at his face. Kleiner was like a child in a zoo and for a moment, the fact that the whole sector was in meltdown had been forgotten. He glanced at Gordon, seeing how uncomfortable he looked and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Gordon. I know you’ve been through something terrible down there – I can see it in your eyes – but I need to keep Izzy safe. I need to find my wife and daughter. There’s no telling what could happen and whether we’ll have another disaster.”

Eli approached Gordon and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to make eye contact.

“Will you help us?”

Gordon swallowed dryly and tensed his jaw. The gravity in Eli’s voice and the pleading look in his gaze hit him right in the gut.

All of this was real. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, this was happening. It was insanity and hardly fathomable and yet he was living it.

No one was going to come and rescue them, not if they couldn’t get the word out. More lives than just his own were on the line... Lives he could save.

The creaking and groaning of metal, crumbling concrete and the muffled explosions that seemed to shake the very foundations of the place cut through the tension. Vibrations were felt through the floor, making the structures and equipment tremble.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Gordon stiffened his back and picked himself up.

“I will.”

Eli smiled, both in relief and gratitude.

“Thank you. You’ll need me to open the way for you. If you find others, I am sure they will be more than happy for your help... And help you in return.”

Eli patted his shoulder twice, before walking past. Kleiner looked up from the container to give his former student a warm, proud smile that met his brown eyes along with a nod. He didn’t need to say a word, Gordon knew he was afraid. They all were.

Returning the smile, even if it was a little strained and fraught with worry, Gordon nodded and turned to follow Eli. It could have been the last time they saw each other but he didn’t want to make it a long goodbye.

As Gordon caught up, Eli had just unlocked the door with the retinal scanner.

“Alright. Make your way to the lobby and see if you can get in touch with anyone from there. If not, you’ll need to try and navigate the rail system to find a way out.”

“Got it.”

“And for god sakes, leave that suit on until you’re in the clear. Got it?”

He hadn’t considered it, but Eli did have a point. This suit was the only thing protecting him and it wasn’t as though he was going to get into trouble with anyone for keeping it. He’d rather have the HEV than rely on his lab coat to stop laser beams.

“They’ll have to tear it off of me if they want it back.” Gordon quipped.

Eli grinned, nodding in approval.

“Atta boy. Stay safe, Gordon. I promise we’ll see each other again soon.”

“You too.”

Nodding and managing a small smirk, he walked through the open door leading to the control room. As it shut and locked behind him, there was a feeling of finality to their meeting. He didn’t look back, fearing he’d have second thoughts and regrets.

Gordon wasn’t sure if Eli would be able to keep his promise, but he was going to keep his.

There was no door stopping him from entering the control room, having been blown off and laying flat just inside.

Small fires lapped at the main console, with the screens above it – that would have shown camera feeds for the test chamber – now showing static. Some of the ceiling panels had fallen, denting the bloodied, metal panel flooring and the chairs were scattered, thrown in different directions.

The half-charred body of a scientist was slumped against the wall near the entrance, blood splatters around the point of collision. Gordon didn’t look twice, eyes instead drawn to the still smoking hole in the centre of the wall.

A pile of smouldering ash lay just before it.

Gordon failed to suppress a shiver, knowing that could have easily been him.

Movement on the far side of the room snapped him out of it. From behind a fallen cabinet scurried a terrified-looking Wilkes, desperate to pry the broken door next to him open.

“Banner! Banner, you piece of shit – help me! Don’t leave me here to die!”

He banged on it with his fists, unable to break the thick glass.

“Wilkes...?” Gordon called out, surprised to see someone alive in the mess.

Flinching, Wilkes spun on a heel. He was covered in blood that Gordon couldn’t determine if it was his own or not. Skin white and eyes wild, he stared at his fellow scientist as though he was going to kill him, cowering against the door.

“S-stay away from me!”

Raising his hands to show he was unarmed, Gordon moved slowly and carefully, not wanting to spook Wilkes further. He spoke calmly.

“Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“W-why should I trust you? One of my own colleagues just abandoned me!”

He wasn’t thinking straight, which Gordon couldn’t exactly blame him for. He took a small step forward, prompting Wilkes to grab a piece of metal near his feet and hold it up threateningly.

“I’m warning you, Freeman, I’ll kill you!”

“Put it down, Wilkes. We’ll get out of this. Eli and Isaac are still alive and there’s bound to be others... But I can’t help them if you stop me.”

“Eli and Isaac are as good as dead and you know it. There’s no escape, do you hear me?!”

Gordon frowned, about to argue, but a heavy vibration almost sent the pair to the floor, requiring them to grab onto the walls to stay balanced. Beyond the window, the sound of the Spectrometer’s last remaining rotor attempting to fire its broken emitter could be heard, making them both look.

_No... No, not again...!_

A photon beam shot through what was left of the metal blinds, hitting the cabinet and melting it completely in the few seconds it existed. The two men screamed, trying to keep their distance. Wilkes panicked, starting to hit the door with the improvised weapon.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME – PLEASE!”

Another beam fired, hitting the middle of the back wall and making the already present hole even worse. Gordon instinctively crouched, trying to keep out of view.

“Wilkes! Wilkes, get down!”

He wasn’t listening, consumed by his terror. Gordon tried to get over to him, keeping low, but a third beam shot through just above his head, making him drop to the floor. It left a glowing ring of melted metal in its wake.

Sweating due to the stifling heat in the confined space, Gordon started to crawl on his hands and knees. Wilkes was ignoring everything going on and focused entirely on his own freedom.

If he could just get to Wilkes and pull him down to the floor, Gordon thought, he could not only save his life but maybe talk some sense into him. He was almost there, just a little further.

A blinding light danced across his glasses and forced him to close his eyes.

Wilkes’ screaming and the sound of metal being torn invaded his ears.

The harsh sting eased just enough to let Gordon squint, colours and specks dancing in his vision.

Wilkes was gone and so was the door – having been blasted off its hinges and into the corridor behind it.

Particles of ash rained down from the ceiling and began to coat his gloved hands.

Gordon swallowed repeatedly, ignoring the sting caused by his staring. His stomach flipped as his gaze flicked to the dust settling on and around him.

That was a person. That was a living, breathing person just seconds ago and now he was _wearing_ them.

Freaking out, Gordon rapidly crawled out of the room and into the corridor. He practically launched to his feet, patting himself down and brushing off the remnants of Wilkes from his suit and hair.

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

No amount of training could teach him how to react when people were dying all around him. Even soldiers, where killing and being killed was par the course, suffered mental scars.

Gordon was no soldier; he was an ordinary man being exposed to an increasingly extraordinary situation, with nothing but a promise and a will to live driving him.

Leaning against the wall and hugging himself, Dr. Freeman shivered.

_Get a hold of yourself, Gordon. You need to keep going or you’ll never see the light of day again._

Gordon took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes. If he lost it and panicked, he’d end up like Wilkes. A few minutes passed, allowing his body and mind to calm and claw back some focus.

If Banner had left Wilkes, that meant there was still a way out. There was still hope.

The VOX system called out following a warning tone, giving him something other than his own overactive thoughts to listen to.

**_WARNING: HIGH ENERGY DETONATION DETECTED IN MATERIALS LABORATORY. FLOODING DETECTED ON SUB LEVEL B. BIOHAZARD WARNING IN SECTORS B AND C. DAMAGE CONTROL TEAM TO SECTOR C IMMEDIATELY._ **

**_ATTENTION: SECTOR C SCIENCE PERSONNEL, PLEASE REPORT STATUS IMMEDIATELY._ **

_It’s worse than I feared. Much worse._

Exhaling, Gordon pushed himself off the wall and moved on through the dark corridor, relying on the flashlight to see.

There was no one around but this section had been mostly spared in terms of damage, so he was hopeful that they had evacuated along with the bastard head scientist. He wasn’t far from the main elevator now – every step brought him closer.

Retracing his steps back to the domed hallway, he could hear a very low hum and see erratically flickering red light. Gordon winced, already having a bad feeling.

The glass tubing protecting the lasers had been broken, causing refractions which aimed into the hall. Machinery and consoles were being cut in half, sending them smashing into the floor and starting more electrical fires. Smoke was slowly filling the area along with a heavy acrid smell.

Lowering into a crouch, Gordon eased under the first one and vaulted over the fallen equipment that blocked the way. He made an effort to hold his breath, the smoke making his eyes water whilst navigating through the torn apart electrics so to get to the other side.

A second section of tubing cracked and sent another beam ahead, carving into the floor. The fallen body of a guard lay nearby, which the beam cut into like a hot knife through butter. They didn’t scream at least, but innards seeped out between the singed clothing.

_Don’t stare. Keep going._

Gritting his teeth, Gordon kept his gaze ahead and sprinted past the beam before it moved again. Once in the clear, he coughed and wheezed, gathering oxygen.

His mind kept reminding him of the gruesome sight of the guard, but he shook it loose and distracted himself with the next obstacle, the jammed door. A few kicks with the heavy boot in the lower panel of already weakened glass provided an exit and he crawled out.

All of that decathlon training was really starting to pay off.

One of the men who had joked about him coming to work that morning lay pinned by the legs under the machine he’d been trying to fix. Gordon checked for a pulse. Considering the injuries he’d likely sustained, there was almost relief in that he found nothing. It was a small mercy.

Sighing heavily, he strode towards the elevator waiting at the end of the sparking, dilapidated walkway. A single working light flickered over the double doors as if to highlight them to him.

He reached over to press the button.

“Please, someone help us!” A male voice called out, echoing from within the shaft.

Gordon paused and quickly moved to the glass and peered through it, trying to see inside. The elevator cab was stuck above the door and he could hear multiple people moving around from within. Audible groans came from the cables and the brakes grinded and squeaked.

“Can anyone hear us?! We’re trapped in here! Get us out!” Another male voice, deeper, shouted.

“Please... I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!” A sobbing woman – quieter than the other two – begged.

“Hold on – I’ll get you out of there!” Gordon shouted close to the glass, hoping the three could hear him.

“Oh, thank god! The damn thing won’t move – it’s stuck! We can’t get the hatch open from our side, but if you could use the maintenance ladder and climb on the roof, you could pry it off for us!”

“Hang tight, I’m coming!”

Gordon pressed the button to open the doors, but they didn’t budge. Cursing under his breath, he dug his fingers into the gap and began to heave them apart. Every second wasted was torturous for both parties, the strained noises from the elevator were getting more frequent and rising in volume.

The suit’s strength was helping, but the stubborn doors were still proving a challenge to budge. Inside, the worried-sounding voices could be heard.

“Is – is he still there?” The woman asked.

“Hey, you’re still there, right?” One of the men called out.

“Y-yeah! The doors are jammed, but I’ve almost got it!”

“Please, hurry!”

**_WARNING: SECTOR C ELEVATOR FAILURE._ **

A screech followed by a rumble came from above, causing the elevator to groan and jerk downwards. The people inside screamed.

“GET US OUT! GET US OUT RIGHT NOW!”

The woman sobbed, drowned out by the yelling and pounding fists on the metal walls. Another loud groan shook the shaft and the elevator inside it, adding to the poor passenger’s terror. The cables rattled with tension.

Gordon was putting every ounce of strength into the struggle, the fused doors moving inch by painful inch. So close and yet so far, they were just beyond his reach.

“PLEASE!”

“I DON’T WANNA DIE – I DON’T WANNA DIE!”

The cab shuddered and jerked again, lowering enough so Gordon could see the horrified occupants inside.

Everything slowed down. The three scientists stared at him and he stared back. As the cab began to slide – sparks coming from the brakes – there was realisation on everyone’s faces. It was going to fall and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

In his lapse of concentration, the doors’ weight pushed back against Gordon and he was forced to retreat or risk getting his arms crushed. They slammed closed with an echoing thud that almost didn’t end.

With that, he was cut off from his colleagues... And their fates were sealed.

“NO!” Gordon cried, slamming his shoulder against the glass. It cracked but didn’t break.

A last shudder and the elevator slipped, cables snapping and the brakes failing to hold it. There was a very brief glimpse of the trio holding each other before they vanished from sight.

The screams of the passengers, encased in their metal coffin, echoed as they plunged. A quaking thud and sounds of screeching, twisting metal followed shortly after.

Gordon was thrown back and away from the door by the force of the impact, which bent the frame and shattered the glass. He curled into a ball, protecting his head and face from the rain of shards landing on and around him, feeling a few pieces bounce off his hands. Once it stopped, he leant up and sat on his knees, brushing himself off carefully and looking towards the damage. Even if his ears were still slightly ringing, there was a notable silence.

Panting quietly, he crawled back to where he was and slipped through the now open gap to the short metal gangway. Staying on his hands and knees, he peered over the side of the platform and down the shaft. He didn’t know what made him want to look, morbid curiosity perhaps.

Fire raged at the bottom, lighting up the destruction for him to see. The cab had collapsed in on itself and resembled little more than flattened and crushed metal, slowly blackening because of the heat.

His chest tightening, paired with a twisting in his gut, made him look away and he slammed a fist onto the metal platform in both grief and frustration.

Grimacing, he held back a choked noise of anguish. There were no words he could find. There was nothing to say. No amount of cursing or yelling was going to make him feel better, or bring them back.

_They’re gone, Gordon._

That cold logic in his thoughts stung, but it snapped him back to reality. Letting loose a shaking sigh, he dragged himself to his feet and moved to the ladder.

The climb was slow. His body felt heavier than it should have been, a pang of guilt lingering like a weight. Solitude seemed to be a near constant outcome, with only the sound of his own movements and breathing for company.

Light flooded in as he reached the top, a welcome reprieve from the smothering blackness.

Gordon, catching his breath, cautiously stepped out into the junction to glance at both routes. There was nothing more than an upturned plant and discarded files leaking papers on his left.

Deciding to head right, he had just turned the corner of the central pillar when his boot slipped on something wet and made him press a hand against the wall to keep his footing.

Staring wide-eyed, he was met with a grisly scene.

Pools of blood had been trailed over the floor. Bloody shoe prints of different sizes, going in different directions, decorated what the pools missed. A struggle had taken place here, that much he could gather, but what got his attention were the claw-like marks in the concrete near the smeared handprints.

Being careful not to slip, Gordon stepped over to the wall and gingerly traced his fingers along the indents – five in total – before lowering his palm on the print. The closeness of the two offered him a disturbing conclusion.

“They... Came from the same thing...” He whispered to himself.

Something akin to a muffled wail echoed from beyond the corridor ahead, startling him. The door at the end was jammed open and bloody drag marks invited him to follow.

Horrible as this was, he had to go that way to reach the lobby.

Clenching his shaking hands into fists, he pressed on, though slowed as he got close to the door. Flares had been dropped and with good reason; the area had no working lights. He took a few of them, sparking one as he stepped inside.

A red-orange glow guided Gordon as he took cautious steps into the labs. Holding it high, he had a good overall vision nearby as well as far away thanks to the flashlight.

At first glance it almost looked like the place had been abandoned, but the drag marks he was still following told a different story. Furniture had been strewn about in the first lab he passed, papers and files littering the carpets. One of the glass walls had been partially smashed, with another stained with streaked blood.

_What the hell happened up here? Where is everyone...?_

The wail returned, making him flinch. It was further ahead.

Although every instinct told him _not_ to go to the source of the noise, what choice did he have? If he didn’t he might as well have stayed with Eli and Kleiner.

Resolving the argument within himself, he kept going.

Pipes and ventilation shafts had sunk in from the ceiling, making the passage awkward to manoeuvre. He passed more claw marks on the walls and blood stains near them, but no bodies were seen. Some of the furniture had been taken out of the lab areas and used as makeshift barricades. With how they now lay smashed, battered or simply tossed aside, they didn’t look to have been effective.

But what were they trying to protect themselves _from_?

Gordon’s breathing was picking up in pace and his heart was hammering in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He was increasingly getting paranoid, checking over his shoulder as if something was watching him.

Something clattered in the lab he was getting close to, making him stop.

“H-hello...?”

There was no verbal reply, just the sound of shuffling and something moving.

Exhaling shakily, he held the flare more in front of himself and proceeded.

The smell hit him first. A coppery, heady stench mixed with rotten meat that made him gag. He coughed, covering his mouth and nose with his arm.

As the light reached the smashed glass walls, he soon realised where everyone was.

Piled in the centre of the communal lab and propped up along the perimeter were bodies of scientists, maintenance crew and guards. All of the desks, chairs and equipment had been tossed or pushed aside to make room for this ... Collection. The corpses had been mutilated, eviscerated and some looked partially _eaten_.

Gordon’s blood turned to ice and he felt bile rise in his throat, quickly forcing it back down.

_Oh... Oh my god..._

Horror shook him to his very core and he was so transfixed that he hadn’t noticed the flare starting to grow dim.

Muffled sobbing came from the corner, sounding strained and choked. Turning, Gordon shone the flashlight towards the noise.

A scientist in a ragged, bloodstained lab coat faced away from him, kneeling over the body of Wilson with his head lowered. He shook as though cold or in pain, twitching his shoulders.

“A-are... Are you... Are you alright...?” Gordon asked in shock, barely gathering his voice.

The scientist didn’t answer, but did shift – albeit stiffly – to the question. He stood slowly, remaining hunched. His arms hung by his sides, showing torn, ragged sleeves... And elongated claws growing from his bloody hands.

Freezing in terror, Gordon stared as the man slowly turned to face him and stood straight, letting out a ragged moan.

Latched onto his head, completely obscuring it was one of those crab-like creatures. Its legs had pierced into the flesh of its victim’s torso and back to keep it secure. The withered body of the scientist appeared to have gone through necrosis, flesh rotting on his emaciated limbs. His chest bore a long slit down the middle, as if he had been cut open. As he took an unsteady step forward, it widened to reveal a maw-like opening lined with shards of rib.

“G... Gor... Don... Help... Me...” Banner’s muffled voice sounded from within.

Petrified, Gordon stumbled backwards, struggling to accept what he was seeing. Banner staggered towards him, clawed hands grasping.

“Help... Me...” He broke into a pained sob.

_This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Please, for the love of god – let me wake up!_

The flare went out, making Gordon yelp. He dropped it, fumbling to light another. The flashlight stayed on Banner, but he could hear a second pair of shuffling steps nearby.

Upon bathing the area in red-orange glow again, another of the zombie-like creatures had cut him off on the left. It howled, screaming from within its fleshy helmet.

“Whyyyyy!? Whyyyyy meeeeee!?”

Gordon screamed, going into reverse, both of the creatures coming right for him. Compared to Banner, the other one seemed much livelier and it swiped out at the air in a feeble attempt to catch its prey. Its claws scratched the wall whilst it writhed in agony.

“Pleeeease!”

Too busy keeping an eye on the two, he almost didn’t hear the clicking of talons on the desk behind him. He turned just as one of the crab creatures sprung – launching itself via its long legs – aiming for his head.

Having little else to defend himself with, he shielded his face with one arm and aimed the flare at it. The fleshy underside opened like a cavernous mouth, engulfing the hot flare and most of Gordon’s hand. It squealed as it cooked from the inside out, talons swiping at him.

Grimacing in disgust, he flung the screeching crab at the nearest zombie. On impact it spat out the live flare, catching the suffering scientist’s lab coat and setting it alight.

Instantly, the garment went up in flames and spread all over it as the monster clawed and swiped around itself in blind panic. The wails of pain and sobs of distress got louder and louder, soon turning into screaming as what was left of its body started to burn.

With the crab twitching on the floor, dying, Gordon lit the last flare and made a break for it, narrowly avoiding Banner’s grab.

“GOOOOOOOORDOOOOOOOON!”

Pure, primal fear made him forget all tact, colliding into obstacles in his desperate attempt to escape.

A dozen more mutated scientists looked up at him from their feasts of co-workers and friends, some crying, some begging and some snarling like wild animals.

_GET ME OUT OF HERE – GET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!_

He flew through the rest of the labs, skidding over the floor as he turned the corner. Corpses – some whole and some not – dotted the corridor, along with altered staff that stopped what they were doing to pursue their fleeing, fresh meal.

Even in half, the poor souls were still alive. One of the zombies with its innards hanging out crawled after him, roaring as he got out of reach.

There was only one place Gordon wanted to be, but if the rest of the level was this bad, there was a good chance it wasn’t going to be safe either.

He realised that a bit too late.

As he saw the curved desk and ran over to it, he failed to check what waited around the corner. A sharp hit landed squarely at his back, knocking him off-balance and sending him towards the furniture at an angle, his head banging against the corner.

Landing heavily with a grunt, his glasses were knocked loose and tumbled away from him.

Gordon groaned, feeling the hot spot of pain growing on his temple. He tried to see, but everything was blurry with a trail following it.

Loud, shuffling steps were getting closer, a snarling moan sending a shiver up Gordon’s spine and he immediately tried to crawl away – however blindly. Unfortunately, he ended up trapping himself within the desk’s circumference and only realised when the blur eased to just about normal.

He rolled over, seeing the twitching, hunched body of the security officer that loomed above him. With his impaired vision, he couldn’t make out a lot of detail, but it was likely just as macabre as the others.

Its warped hand reached downwards and snatched his shin, gripping it with a supernatural strength that made the metal plating creak in protest. It turned, starting to drag him along as it walked back towards the labs.

Initially surprised by the change in behaviour, it quickly turned to panic as he clawed at the floor in an attempt to stop or at least slow the creature’s advance. He kicked at the thing with his free leg, but it wasn’t deterred. Necrosis or not, they were still tough.

Wails, sobs and feral cries echoed from the hallway he’d come from and he was being taken right to them. The fallen flare had rolled further inside, casting shadows of reaching claws as they drew closer.

Struggling with all his might and beginning to tire, Gordon still couldn’t get free.

“N-no! No – let me go! LET ME GO!”

Three gunshots rang out, hitting it twice in the back and once in the arm that held his leg, snapping it clean off. The creature staggered forward into the opening of the hallway and turned with a snarl, only to be cut off with one final shot which blasted half of the crab away in chunks.

The guard fell back onto the floor with a gurgling wheeze, motionless.

Gordon scrambled backwards, panting. Those things were still coming for him. Banner’s voice rang out the loudest, calling his name.

The person-shaped blur raced over to the entrance and smashed something on the wall. A warning alarm bleeped before a heavy shutter closed and sealed off the corridor just as the horde reached it. Angry cries and screams came from the other side, along with the sound of raking claws.

Still in a state of heightened terror and not being sure of who or what was in the lobby with him, Gordon tensed as steps approached, getting ready to defend himself. He felt his wrist get taken by the blurry mass and – before he had the chance to swing at them – his glasses were pushed into his hand.

“You always were as blind as a bat, buddy.”

Gordon perked up at the unmistakable voice and stopped resisting. He quickly put the glasses back on after his wrist was released, blinking up at the man standing over him in his security force uniform sans helmet. They swept a hand through their messy black hair, watching him with dark brown eyes.

Seeing recognition on Gordon’s face, the man responded with his signature, boyish grin. There was no one else who could have so much bravado and still keep a sense of humour in a time of crisis.

“Miss me?”

Barney Calhoun.

Staring in disbelief, Gordon tried to speak but every thought in his head came out at once in a hurried, stammered line.

“B-barney? You – how – those things – they’re – Banner is –“

Barney blinked in surprise, his grin wilting, but he quickly laughed it off, moving to heave Gordon up.

“Hey, slow down there, doc, before you break something. Damn – this thing you’re wearing is heavy as hell.”

A little unsteady from the hit to the head and still catching his breath, Gordon took a few attempts to plant his feet. His legs shook in place, prompting Barney to guide him to the desk and let him lean against it.

“Deep breaths, buddy, okay? You hurt?” Barney asked, giving him a once over.

Gordon shook his head, taking his friend’s advice. Barney nodded, patting his shoulder and turning to observe the lobby.

“Well, I’m glad I made it when I did – I figured you’d be knee-deep in trouble like always. Things are going to shit out there. Please tell me that Kleiner and Vance aren’t dead.”

“They’re... They’re alive...” Gordon muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Good. I’ll find them next, but it looks like I’ll have to take some detours.”

Barney wiped some sweat from his brow onto his sleeve, releasing the clip from his handgun and checking the ammunition. The click of his tongue suggested that he didn’t have much left to spare. He glanced at Gordon then, raising a brow.

“Why didn’t you stay down there with them?”

“Eli needed someone to get topside. He said to use –“

“The rail system, right?” A small, mirthless smile appeared on his lips.

Gordon blinked, raising both brows and Barney sighed heavily.

“It’s trashed, Gordon. Tunnel collapsed right down on top of it with the explosion. I’ve tried every phone, radio and computer on my way here and none of it works. We’re cut off.”

Lowering his head with an exasperated sigh, Gordon glared at the polished surface of the desk. He saw his own reflection staring back at him, green eyes intense and his short brown hair wild and spiked from sweating. His face was much paler than usual, for obvious reasons.

Resting a hand on the back of his neck, he looked up at the ceiling.

“So, now what?” He asked, quietly.

Barney huffed and put his hands on his hips, nudging a cup away from his boot. He’d clearly been through a lot, too, judging by the blood and marks on his clothing. He sounded stressed, but was good at hiding it behind his carefree attitude.

“You’re the scientist. You tell me.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. This really wasn’t the time for his joking around. Knowing he was probably irritating the other man, Barney smirked back at him.

“Well, come on! You’re the brains and I’m the brawn.”

Frowning, his gaze caught something past Barney and he slowly stood. Barney hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t the target and blinked, raising his hands a bit.

“Hey, uh – Gordon – you’re not gonna hit me with that suit on, are you?”

Gordon was already walking past him when he paused and looked at him quizzically, raising a brow. Barney sheepishly cleared his throat, realising his mistake.

“Never mind. You ... Do you.”

Shaking his head, Gordon continued and Barney followed, rubbing at his neck awkwardly. On the wall at floor level was a vent duct, which he pried off and tossed away. He peered within the small space, just about seeing the server room on the other side and scratched at his goatee with a finger thoughtfully.

Barney crouched next to Gordon, glancing inside.

“No offense, Gordon, but this isn’t exactly the time for a race to Kleiner’s office.”

Both rather competitive, the duo raced against each other to be the first to retrieve Dr. Kleiner’s keys whenever he happened to lock them in his office. With how regular this was (Isaac may have been a genius and prolific author but his thoughts were usually elsewhere) it soon became a game to break up the tedium of subterranean life. With conventional means disallowed, Gordon’s preferred method had been ventilation shafts, which he’d mapped out by memory.

The scientist’s deadpan expression at the comment made Barney snap his fingers.

“Ohhh... You want to – right...”

Sighing, Gordon nodded.

“If I can find another route using the ventilation system in the sector, I may be able to get out and find a way to the surface.”

“You really wanna risk it? There’s more... Things out there. The place is falling apart.”

“What else can I do, Barney? If I don’t –“

“You’re not a hero, Gordon. We should quit while we still have our skins. We’ll grab Kleiner and Vance and get the hell out.”

“Eli won’t abandon his wife and kid, Barney, you know that.”

“Then I’ll knock the dumb son of a bitch out if I have to. Black Mesa might be going to hell but I still remember my oath.”

Gordon bristled at Barney’s remark.

“And they aren’t part of that oath?”

Barney glared, bristling back.

The pair had their arguments, which was unavoidable with differing personalities and opinions, but they normally resolved themselves and made their bond stronger for it. Gordon was a pacifist and a pragmatist and Barney was a headstrong idealist with a defender mentality. It made them unlikely friends and they clashed a lot in the beginning, but Dr. Kleiner had a hand in getting them to see eye to eye. They balanced each other out perfectly.

“ _You_ are part of that oath. I won’t let you get yourself killed because you think you can save everyone. One thing you learn in times like these is that you _can’t_.”

His friend’s voice shook on the last few words, Gordon being observant enough to tell that there was a reason for it, a hint of fragility showing through. How many friends had _he_ seen die today? What horrors had _he_ gone through to get here?

Lowering his head with a heavy sigh, Gordon removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts. Barney brushed a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply in frustration. They were both stubborn men, but something had to give. A few seconds of silent simmering passed.

“Alright...” Barney began, rising to stand.

“I know when you’ve made a decision, there’s no stopping you. If you wanna try for the surface, I’ll let you do it... But don’t you dare die on me. Meanwhile, I’ll get the docs...”

Gordon raised his gaze to Barney after pushing the glasses back up his nose, expectantly. Barney eyed him for a moment and lowered his shoulders with some reluctance.

“... And we’ll make a stop at the dormitories on our way out.”

Satisfied, Gordon nodded. Barney pouted, huffing in defeat and placing his hands on his hips, looking elsewhere with a frown.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah... It’s my ass on the line if any of you brainiacs die. You better get going... And find yourself something to defend yourself with. I’d give you a spare gun if I had one – you remember what I taught you, right?”

Barney had snuck Gordon away on their days off to use the security force’s shooting range for private lessons. It could have gotten them both in serious trouble, but someone was in Barney’s debt and this was the investment. His excuse was always ‘you just never know’ and although Gordon wasn’t a fan of violence or liked the idea of using a firearm, he didn’t think it was a bad skill to have. He wasn’t a terrible shot at any rate.

“Yeah...” Gordon nodded.

“Good. You do what you gotta do and meet up with us later, outside the base if need be. I still owe you a beer so I’ll be pissed if you don’t make it.”

His tone was in jest, looking down to Gordon with a smile, but unease was written all over his features. Just as concerned but doing his best to look braver than he actually felt, Gordon returned it, and then looked to the vent, mentally preparing himself.

“I’ll be there.”

Barney paused, opening his mouth to say something, but instead cleared his throat. He reached to pat Gordon’s shoulder before the scientist crawled inside the vent. It was both a gesture of farewell and encouraging him to go.

Half-way through, Gordon heard Barney call to him.

“Take care, buddy.”

“Stay safe, Barney.”

Footsteps led away from the vent and Gordon continued onwards, the two parting ways.

Unbeknown to the other, both did pause and glance back to where their friend had gone, questioning decisions made. A fear took root in the back of their minds. Would they ever see each other again? Should they have said more? Said proper goodbyes?

Rumbles throughout the facility shook them back to reality and set them on their paths once more, the fear being ignored for the time being.

They had work to do.

Gordon’s cramped travel to the server room was mercifully short, the HEV making it a little more awkward than he anticipated. An orange glow, caused by a large fire eating away at one of toppled and partially-buried servers, illuminated the darkened space. Wall-mounted red lights struggled to break through the thick smoke. He couldn’t see anyone from the shaft’s position, just a small group of blood splatters on the far wall.

He was just about to heave himself out when a live hanging cable from the collapsed ceiling sent a bolt of electricity at one of the monitors above the workstation nearby. It exploded; sending sparks to the displaced computers on the floor and began a chain reaction of short circuiting. Bursts of flame grew higher and higher, quickly starting to spread.

Having retreated to hide from the sparks and explosions, Gordon peered out and saw there was only one way he could avoid the fire – through the security booth on his left. The doors were open. He just had to hope the ones on the other side would be.

Gritting his teeth, he decided to risk it. He clambered out of the shaft and landed on the floor, raising an arm to shield his face from the flames as he jogged to the booth and ducked inside.

Gordon followed the booth that curved around the perimeter of the room, giving him a little reprieve from the choking smoke. The fire hadn’t spread to the back area yet, leaving him with an easy exit.

Or so he hoped.

To his dismay the other set of doors were jammed shut, but this had been done on purpose for a change. A metal crowbar with a red painted handle stuck out between the locking mechanisms, as if someone had tried to stop something from following them.

The moans from the other side of the glass wall made him realise what.

Turning sharply with a gasp, three of the zombies stumbled through the smoke and began to hit on the glass, raking it with their clawed fingers. He was trapped and the fire was growing bigger. Two of them were scientists and the third was a security guard, his almost skeletal jaw hanging low underneath the crab, as if broken.

He reeled back in fear, bumping into the desk behind him and sending the keyboard and mouse clattering to the floor.

An errant bolt of electricity from the cable flew into the machinery on the wall outside of the booth, detonating it. The resounding explosion almost sent Gordon to the floor, pieces of metal and concrete hitting the monstrous colleagues and throwing them across the room. The glass on the doors shattered, buckling them, but stayed shut due to the tool wedged between them.

Ears ringing, Gordon used the desk to regain his balance. He saw the fallen zombies, unsure if they were really dead and then looked to the wall which now had a rather sizable hole in it.

That was his way out!

Feeling a surge of courage, Gordon grabbed the crowbar and tugged it loose – the doors springing open enough so he could squeeze through. He didn’t check to see if anything was going to come for him or not, clambering through the hole with renewed vigour.

It took him to the personnel offices, the orange line on the curve of the wall just about seen through more smoke. The corridor that would have normally led him here had suffered a lot of integrity damage, part of it caving in. Fire raged behind the rubble.

He could hear the trapped monsters not so far away, howling for blood and flesh; probably his.

Fighting the shakes, Gordon pressed on into the dark hallway with the spot of light from the HEV leading him.

The office on the left was pitch black with its door and windows intact. He tried to look inside but wasn’t able to make out anything and the door was locked. In the middle of the floor was a filing cabinet, shards of glass and papers trailing to the shattered window of the right side office. As well as that, the door had been torn off, crumpled before its designated spot.

There was no doubt about it – somehow, those crab creatures had been spreading all over the upper level and _changing_ everyone who didn’t die first. The way that one he killed had acted – launching for his head and ignoring the danger of the flare – made him sure it was a form of parasite. Parasites needed a host for continued survival, it just so happened that humans were compatible.

A slow, repeating, wet smack snapped him out of his trail of thought and he moved the glow along the window.

Opposite him was one of the altered scientists. It hadn’t noticed him and it also didn’t react to the gleam. The creature repeatedly hit its ‘head’ against the glass, leaving a growing blood splatter.

“Why... Why...” A muffled, gargling voice moaned from inside.

Gordon watched in silence, finding the scene disturbing and horrific. He didn’t know how aware they were of their actions, how much pain they were in and if there was even any humanity left in their disfigured bodies.

“Please... Someone... Help me...” They sobbed over the impacts.

Which of his colleagues was this? It could have been anyone. He had worked with so many people – different names, different faces and different quirks – but now he couldn’t tell them apart. Their identities had been forcefully stripped from them, replaced with these husks of men and women, faces obscured with a vile and cruel entity.

Swallowing heavily, he looked to the crowbar in his hand, then back to the creature. He weighed it up in his head and fought with his conscience. Was it mercy to end their suffering, or murder?

His grip shook. No matter what they were now, they were people once. Scientists just like him. They had families. They had friends. Maybe they had been living on site with dependents and _maybe_ those very people were looking for them right now.

He couldn’t do it.

Gordon turned away and fate taught him what a terrible mistake that was.

The wet smacks stopped.

Pausing mid-step, noticing the sudden quiet, Gordon turned to shine the flashlight back on where the zombie had stood.

It was right in his face, catching it just as it finished its leap.

A scream was cut off as it collided with him, sending him to the floor. The corridor was cast into darkness, the HEV instead fully illuminating his assailant as it tried to pin him down.

Choking out a yell after having the air knocked out of him, Gordon wrestled and struggled underneath the rotting, but still heavy body of the scientist. Getting a knee under its abdomen, he held it back, pushing against its shoulder with his left hand. It was a test of strength between the two, which – when faced with something that didn’t tire – he was bound to lose.

Screeching, the monster swiped at his face with its left hand, claws just missing his cheek and jaw as he turned his head against the floor. Its right hand clutched his forearm tightly – very tightly – and tried to pull it aside. Its writhing was making it difficult to balance on his knee, the full weight of the thing on it.

Panting raggedly through grunts of exertion, Gordon saw the crowbar on the floor nearby. With his free hand he reached for it, flinching as the zombie swiped and missed again.

His fingers almost touched the crowbar but it wasn’t enough. It was too far.

Meanwhile, his hold on the shoulder loosened. The creature pried his arm aside momentarily and the sudden shift broke his defence. It fell on him, his knee lowering enough for it to get uncomfortably close.

Crying out in terror, Gordon quickly pressed his released forearm against its collar bone in a futile attempt to keep it at bay. His other leg tried to find leverage underneath it, the heel of his boot scraping against the floor, but the creature was moving around too much for him to do so.

It swiped with its right hand, missing and scratching into the surface near his head thanks to an elbow knocking its aim. In that same movement, Gordon shuffled his body towards the crowbar, but it also left him more vulnerable.

The creature reached around and grabbed the wrist of his defending arm with a snarl, pulling it away roughly before pinning it to the floor just above his head. Suit or no suit, the wrenching of his arm and the impact still hurt – making him yelp in pain.

Wincing, he looked to the crowbar and stretched for it again out of desperation. It was only a matter of time before it landed a killing blow.

Instead, he felt claws curl around his head and press it into the floor with force, effectively keeping him down. Screaming, panic and fear surging through him now, his hand grasped for the crowbar – fingers touching it at last and trying to drag it towards him. Bony talons clicked against the lenses of his glasses, displacing them at an awkward angle.

The creature leered at him and his eyes caught it in their peripheral. Its mandibles rubbed together, the two longer fangs rising in anticipation and aiming for his neck. Whimpering, Gordon closed his eyes and prayed.

Feeling the crowbar in his grip, he pulled it over and thrust the pointed wedge into the side of the crab and the skull underneath as deep as he could.

A choked noise came from inside, its body convulsing for a few moments before it slumped on top of him. Both green and red blood seeped out of the wound and from underneath the crab itself, dripping onto his face and chest.

Gordon’s trembling hand was locked around the crowbar, holding it for dear life. He slowly opened his eyes – vision skewed with his glasses half-on – and timidly checked that the thing was no longer moving.

Seeing it on top of him and feeling blood trickling over his cheek, mixed with the stench of death and decay which was no longer possible to ignore sent him into a panic attack. Hyperventilating, he struggled underneath the mangled corpse and eventually rolled it off him, leaving the crowbar stuck inside its skull.

He scrambled backwards and away from it, huddling by the wall he reached and hugged himself, cradling his still-aching arm. The adrenaline pumping through his body made him shake, along with fear – he was trembling and freezing cold even though the raging fires’ heat could be felt from the corridor.

An unsteady hand reached up and slowly pulled his glasses off, holding them as his other hand wiped at his face. He looked at it after as though he was in some sort of stupor, blankly staring at the blurred, smeared blood covering his fingers.

Whether it was the smell, the sight of the blood or the whole experience and the shock it put him in, he suddenly heaved, leaning over to the side and throwing up.

It took a few minutes to stop.

Panting heavily, Gordon waited until the queasiness passed. His brow was slick with cold sweat and his trembling had turned into shivers. Once sure he had nothing left to vomit, he spat a few times to try and rid the taste out of his mouth, before shuffling a little further down the wall and away from the unpleasantness.

Gordon leant his head against the wall and raised his knees. He brought the glasses to his face with one hand, checking that they were still alright, and then slipped them on whilst wiping the remnants of blood off his other glove’s fingers using the floor. Swallowing dryly, his throat sore, he stared off at the opposite wall where the flashlight created a circle of sanctuary.

The hallway was mostly silent aside from distant moans echoing from where he came and the crackling of flames.

A flood of emotions abruptly surfaced, unable to hold them back this time.

Grimacing, he covered his face with his hands and let out a choked sob.

What a fool he was, thinking he had any chance in hell of doing this. The hit to the head must have removed all rational thought.

Barney was right, he was no hero and he wouldn’t have lasted a minute if that one zombie had been two. He should have gone with him, forgot about Eli’s plan and just escaped. Everyone was dead anyway, what was he trying to prove?

If he was indeed doomed to die down here, he could have chosen to do it alongside his friends and those he cared about, rather than alone and surrounded by corpses and destruction.

Destruction he had played a part in creating.

Crying quietly, he hugged his knees and rested his forehead on top of them, blocking out the world around him. Even if he decided to try and catch up with Barney now, the fire fully prevented him from doing so. He was on his own and the prospect of seeing his best friend again seemed less and less likely by the second.

There was, however, a small comfort to be had, knowing that he wasn’t going to be seen like this.

Gordon had always been a quiet, private man. He would often go hours without speaking to others. Some had called him ignorant or simply rude, having an awkward and aloof air about him, more focused on his work than socially interacting.

That wasn’t true – he paid attention to everything going on to the tiniest detail. He even remembered Steve the janitor’s birthday when others were just too busy. Someone he didn’t even know – lowest on the food chain in terms of position – and yet just two words and a gesture of goodwill to a lonely and underappreciated man made him a friend for life. Barney even took him to the bar to get drunk that evening and it was the best celebration he could ask for. No one had done that for him in the years he’d worked there.

Steve was probably gone now, but he didn’t die in the belief that no one saw him as a person.

The fact that Dr. Kleiner was Gordon’s mentor and professor at MIT had raised some questions of favouritism by some of his colleagues who doubted his experience and knowledge. Dr. Banner and Dr. Magnusson (who competed with Isaac for grant money) had been the main culprits but there were more, using his status as an Associate to get him to do demeaning tasks they saw beneath their skills. Of course he did them; it was his job to do so.

Although he figured it was just jealousy, it had made him feel like an outcast. In their eyes he was still a Postdoc. The only solace he could find was in Isaac’s and Eli’s company in the beginning, which only perpetuated the issue.

Barney changed all of that the day they met, being introduced by Kleiner a couple of weeks into his new job when he was still trying to find his feet. He frequently got lost and that was how he got to know the security guards better than his own lab mates, possibly seeing Barney too but not knowing his name.

They were around the same age, which helped, but they were very different people and that was the secret. It threw Gordon completely out of his comfort zone and forced him to adapt whether he liked it or not. He couldn’t be quiet around Barney because he talked a lot – almost excessively so – and his exuberant personality, whilst unusual considering what he was used to, was contagious. When he wanted to retreat and go back to his room to relax alone, Barney would instead drag him out for drinks and force him to interact with others.

This was all quite overwhelming at first and, at times, annoying, but he began to see the benefit. He made more friends – mostly with the off duty security guards – started to enjoy his life at Black Mesa as opposed to questioning it and discovered that there was still fun to be had after graduation. Game night in the bar every Thursday and poker night on Saturdays became regular arrangements, mixed with whatever crazy new idea Barney dragged him to, including competitive sports and, of course, the shooting range.

His peers didn’t like that they were friends and that came as no surprise. They claimed Barney was a bad influence; a track record of getting into trouble, debt and fights and _especially_ when the races to Dr. Kleiner’s office began. Gordon stuck up for him and that put him in a bad spot for opinion, too, but he had learnt to brush it off rather than taking it to heart like he would have done before.

It wasn’t all one-sided, however. Barney benefitted from Gordon’s friendship as well, getting helpful and – when required – blunt advice, a listening ear to his many questions and thoughts and someone to reel him in when he got too far ahead of himself. Gordon kept him grounded whereas he had taught Gordon how to let loose.

He also taught him not to give up.

How much time had passed since the incident?

Gordon’s tears had dried, leaving him sitting in silence with his eyes closed. His moment of weakness faded away, leaving behind a residual, lingering numbness.

Distant shakes and rumbles made him raise his head and glance back and forth along the corridor. Nothing had changed. The corpse of the zombie was where he left it, the crowbar sticking upwards out of its head. Blood pooled around it.

He sighed heavily, pulling his glasses off and cleaning their lenses using the sleeve of his suit, before switching to his glove. Sniffling, he slipped them back on and rose to stand.

Flies had begun to accumulate around the dead scientist, drawn in by the smell which hit him as he got close. Covering his mouth and nose with one hand, he took the handle of the crowbar firmly and held the body in place with his boot. A strong tug pried it free, the bottom half of the tool covered in blood, pieces of bone, crab innards and gore.

Closing his eyes and swallowing back bile, he flicked as much of the mess off as he could onto the floor, then used a torn off piece of lab coat to wipe off whatever remained. He discarded the filthy rag aside, turning to the corridor at the end of the hallway.

Exhaling as his jumpy stomach settled, he made a cautious advance.

A single working light flickered over the sign on the wall, noting the next checkpoint was for Sector B. He had never been there but two guards were normally posted by the door to prevent entry. Considering how dark the entryway looked, he doubted they were there now.

Approaching slowly and keeping the crowbar close, he hugged the wall on the left and peered around the corner.

A dead guard covered in lacerations lay in a pool of blood near the first aid station mounted on the wall, which glowed dimly. On the bench behind him was the slumped, mutated body of another guard, unmoving with blood stains covering the pockmarked wall behind. It was a bleak affirmation of his doubt.

With nothing else to be aware of, he gingerly moved to the first aid station and stayed on high alert. He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

Easily recognised by their steel casing and red cross, the station had two functions; storing vital medical equipment inside and providing a terminal to be used by HEVs to replenish their painkiller supply.

Gordon sighed softly, placing the crowbar on top of it and pressing one of the buttons on the computer. A tiny compartment opened up underneath it, revealing the connector plug, which he released and pulled out – its short cable following along. He plugged it into the port at the bottom of the terminal, turning it until it locked, before inputting his code onto the keypad.

A green light appeared over the keys and one of the two tubes filled with clear liquid began to drain. The suit hummed gently as it worked.

Leaning close to the machine and holding either side, he tapped a finger gently against it while he waited. It gave him a small moment of calm.

A long beep sounded, announcing the process had finished. The green light changed to yellow and the plug automatically turned as it was released. He tugged it out and pressed the button again, the cable being retracted and the compartment closing.

Gordon mentally checked himself over, touching at the back of his head and then his temple. Although there was a bit of swelling on the back, it wasn’t bleeding and the latter had settled to a manageable tenderness. He wasn’t injured to the point of needing medical treatment other than what the suit had already provided and that was particularly lucky considering what he had been through so far.

He picked up the crowbar and turned away from the station. He had no way to carry anything without it being cumbersome and his impromptu weapon was more valuable to him than bandages currently.

Heading on through the open doors, he entered a junction with two long hallways either side. No lights were functioning, but a fire raged in the room at the right side’s end, casting an orange glow along the walls. There was the outline of a doorway adjacent to it. On the left was the coolant reserve, protected in another lab, but the tanks had toppled over and leaked everywhere – freezing furniture and floor into hard clumps of ice.

Not wanting to investigate, Gordon took to the right, noting blood splatters on the floor and the large panels that had fallen in from the ceiling. A gaping hole was crumbling above, some of the still attached panels entangled with fallen wires.

Underneath the rubble was the shape of a body – their awkwardly bent arm sticking out through a gap. Gordon paused, his expression grim, but he forced himself to keep walking.

Muffled screaming came from the flames on the other side of the broken double doors, a crab-headed scientist launching at the gap where the glass would normally be. The frame prevented it from getting out and with its poor motor functions it appeared to be unable to climb. It slammed against its prison – flailing its clawed hands at Gordon.

Although spooked at first, Gordon tore his gaze from the scene and did his best to ignore its screams and cries as it burnt to death, moving to the other door.

It led to a storage area, albeit a messy one with shelving units, boxes and crates fallen down on top of each other. Shortly after entering he was forced to stride and eventually climb over the blockade, not staying disarmed for long if he had to put the crowbar down.

Sighing with relief after escaping the debris, Gordon scanned the long, dark corridor. Large white tanks dotted his right along the wall and a jammed door only partially open was on his left. More shelving units, racks and pallets were further ahead, strewn over the floor underneath sunken ventilation shafts.

As he walked along he checked the gap of the open door. A shelving rack had collapsed against it and he couldn’t see much of the room beyond. He _could_ see blood all over the floor, however and what was enough to make him not want to tamper.

Gordon wrestled with and climbed over more irksome blockages, seeing a red light flickering at the end of the corridor near a large step ladder. Fighting his way to it, he discovered it was coming from a sunken elevator; the broken, misaligned doors leading to the shaft decorated with bloodied handprints and smears. Worryingly, a trail of blood led through the gap between them.

Tensing with fear, remembering the last time he was involved with an elevator, he was hesitant to go inside. He wanted to go up, but with the cab blocking access to its roof at this height, he couldn’t get to a ladder.

Gordon bit his lip, rubbing a knuckle against his chin as he fought with himself. If he wasn’t prepared to do this, why didn’t he just stay by that wall and wait for the inevitable end?

_It’s either this or fire, Gordon. At least this would be a quicker and considerably less painful death._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Releasing a shaking exhale, he moved to the gap and crouched down, slipping into the narrow opening legs first.

A loud, metallic thud rang out in the cab when his boots hit the floor. Two marked containers designated for labs had been left inside, as well as a few crates and a trolley to carry them. The light within doused the cab, him and its contents with a red glow.

Not wanting to be trapped in there for long, he looked up at the escape hatch above and began to rearrange what he had with him so he could climb to it.

The elevator shuddered and groaned, sinking a little. There was a good chance that the suit’s weight had pushed it over its already weakened limit.

Gordon flinched and cried out; stopping what he was doing and looked to the now tighter space leading back to the storage area.

“N-no...”

Thinking he could still make it out if he was careful, he abandoned his plan and slowly stepped back to the ledge. He moved one foot along, then the other, keeping his arms out in an attempt to distribute weight. Simple physics, really.

Eyes locked on the ledge getting closer, he could feel his heart pounding in his ears and sweat beginning to bead on his brow. One hand reached for it with trembling fingers, the other holding the crowbar tightly despite it not really being able to help him. It was for comfort.

The cab violently rattled, metal creaking and brakes screeching. Wincing, Gordon paused and waited for it to ease. He was so close now.

_Just... A little more..._

With the rattle turning into a thrumming vibration, he took a careful step and touched the wall.

“Come on, come on...”

A strained creak came from above and the elevator suddenly jerked, making Gordon lose his balance with a sharp gasp. He fell on his back, the heavy landing being the elevator’s tipping point.

The brakes gave way and the cab plummeted.

Screaming, Gordon clung to the floor with his fingers – the force of gravity keeping him pinned. There was nothing he could do except brace for impact.

Barely able to see straight with all the shaking, he could just make out the elevator passing two more floors – one exit had a door missing with flames licking at the entrance to the shaft and the other simply had its doors closed. With no way of stopping it, he was going to be crushed at the bottom.

Now he knew how those poor people felt.

_Please, let it be quick..._

The screeching of metal came to an abrupt end as it collided with something. It wasn’t hard like he anticipated but it still delivered a less than comfortable landing, his body being thrown a few inches up before hitting the floor.

“Agh...! Gah! Ow...”

Grimacing from the rough travel – rattling still being heard in his head after being thoroughly shaken – Gordon groaned. He wasn’t dead, much to his surprise, but he was going to feel that for a while. Not so dire as to need morphine, though, at least that’s what the HEV thought anyway.

Coughing, Gordon reclaimed lost air and blinked rapidly to focus. Aside from the crates and containers thrown away from the hatch, there was no integrity damage at all.

Why had it stopped?

Gordon felt a sudden coldness against his left leg that was swiftly moving underneath him and he dazedly looked to see what it was.

Water. The elevator was sinking into water.

The bottom of the shaft had flooded.

Bolting upright, Gordon hurried to his feet and he felt the elevator get pulled deeper. Water began rushing into the open cab and it was rapidly filling up. So rapidly, even, that he wasn’t allowed any time to plan.

He was trying to think straight, but panic was dominating his mind. The cab tilted to one side awkwardly as its weight adjusted, filling with freezing, dark water he could barely see through. He stayed dry thanks to the suit, but the temperature was still being felt even with its layers and his teeth began to chatter. If he didn’t drown first there was a severe risk of hypothermia.

Beyond the doors, he saw hope in the form of an open exit to the floor he’d arrived at and tried to wade towards it. The push of the water slowed him down, which was at his chest now.

The cab sank faster and further and the exit started to vanish out of view. He wasn’t going to make it in time.

Gasping at the biting cold, the water reaching his chin, he looked up to the escape hatch. That was his only chance. Gordon felt his feet leave the floor as the level got higher, now treading water to keep his head above the surface. Soon enough he was running out of room, being wedged by the ceiling – a hand pressed against it.

Whilst he still had air, he took the crowbar and hit the hatch as hard as he could, several times. Each hit weakened and dented it, but it was being stubborn.

Gordon panted, trembling now with how cold he was. The suit was working hard to regulate his body temperature, buying him some time. It unfortunately couldn’t do the same for oxygen.

As the water pushed him towards the last few inches of space, he swung it one more time and caused a small breach to form. It needed more force to come away, but the crowbar had done its job. Savouring his last few deep breaths, he held it and took his glasses off, holding them with the crowbar in one hand and pushed himself down with the other.

The icy touch of the water on his skin made him wince, descending into a dull haze with shimmers of red that were blocked out periodically by the floating containers and crates. With the elevator filled, it was beginning to sink further down the shaft. Gordon had to get out _now_ or risk being carried along for the ride.

Orientating himself, he swam to where the hatch was – barely making it out – and kicked it. It twisted outwards. He kicked it again and again, the hatch opening just a bit wider with each blow. He could feel his lungs starting to burn and the cold sapping his energy.

_Just one more – come on!_

Pushing back the urge to gasp, he kicked again.

The hatch swung open. There was a very faint shimmer of light above, giving him some idea of how far he needed to go.

Gordon grabbed the mouth of the opening and pulled himself through it, pushing up towards the surface. Every thrust made him more tired, every kick made his chest hurt. His eyes flickered and were struggling to stay open.

The HEV’s voice, muffled, was just about heard.

_'Warning: Vital signs are dropping.'_

“Ghk...” A choked noise replied. He was desperate for air.

It felt like he had been swimming for hours and yet he was still no closer to the light. His legs were starting to slow down against their will. Gritting his teeth – his suffocating lungs on fire – he reached up towards the light, his numbing fingers grazing its shimmer.

How ironic was it to escape a falling elevator, only to drown in the water that saved you?

_Not... Like this..._

His hand breached the murky film and grabbed the ledge, hauling him up with the last bit of strength he could spare.

Gordon gasped deeply; taking in so much air all at once he choked and coughed. He leant his head against the concrete, gulping down oxygen, his body shaking from strain and cold. It hurt to move but he had to get out of that water, his legs were too tired to keep treading and if he lost grip on the ledge there was a risk he could sink.

Panting and wheezing, he pulled his other hand over the ledge and gently dropped the crowbar and glasses onto the floor past the open doors. With both hands free, he clawed forward and used the leverage of his arms to drag himself out, crawling away from his watery grave before collapsing into a heap.

Water pooled on the floor, droplets running down his face and dripping onto the concrete tiles. He lay still, waiting for the pain in his chest to settle. Every breath felt like a stabbing needle; a sharp, tear-inducing pain that spread similar to an electric shock. On top of that, he was trembling – so much so that it was actually making him ache.

“Less... Painful... Death... My ass...” Gordon uttered, coughing.

_'Warning: Body temperature at 33 degrees. Hypothermia risk is imminent.'_

“T-tell me about it...” He responded dryly.

As much as he wanted to remain on the floor to avoid hurting himself further, there was a significant risk of passing out. He had to stay awake. Who was to say he was any safer? More of those monsters could be hiding nearby.

Groaning, he pushed on his hands and slowly pressed himself up onto his knees. His tightening muscles resisted movement, stiffly complying.

“Ah... Agh... Nn... God, that hurts...”

_'Warning: Body temperature at 33 degrees. Hypothermia risk is imminent.'_

The suit repeated itself, much to an already stressed out wearer’s inconvenience.

“I know, I know – shut up!” Gordon hissed, reaching for his glasses and slipping them on.

They were a bit streaky, but they were clean from dirt and dust at last. It was like having new eyes again. Taking a moment to rest, so to not push himself too hard too quickly, he looked around.

It was a small storage area with crates and boxes abandoned in the middle of processing. A forklift truck was left parked near the closed shutter door with a crate still loaded on it. Leaks poured in from damaged pipes on the high ceiling. At the back of the room, split into three individual sections by pillars, were shelving racks. The room formed an L-shape and he was unable to see around the corner from where he was. Even so, it was silent.

He was safe... For now.

Relaxing just marginally, he focused on stopping his condition from worsening. He rose to his feet – grabbing the crowbar – and hugged himself tightly as the tremors returned in force. He needed heat and he needed it now.

_Think – think – think. Lots of crates – got to be something in these._

Armed with his trusty companion, he sluggishly stepped to the nearest crate and pried the lid off. Inside was filled with packing and after rooting through it, only found mechanical parts. Irritably, he moved away from the crate and picked another; this one had fragile lab equipment inside.

“Damn it...”

It was increasingly becoming more difficult to concentrate. On his way to the next one, he slumped against it and felt his eyelids getting heavy.

_So tired..._

He caught himself, jerking upright and harshly slapping his own cheek. It stung like hell, but it woke him up.

“Stay awake. Stay _awake_.”

Not knowing what to expect this time, he pried the lid off the larger crate and peered inside. There had to be s _omething_ he could use in this place, surely?

It was full of fresh lab coats.

Hardly believing his luck, he placed the crowbar down and dug out as many as he could carry, layering them around himself to preserve heat. They would be ruined, certainly, but that was a given at this point. He dried his face and hair with another, the latter sticking upright in wild spikes until he brushed it back down with his fingers.

Gordon grabbed a few more and dropped them by his feet, before sitting on them. He leant against the crate and huddled in his mound of makeshift blankets. The tremors rattled him, his teeth chattering, but it was all he could do at a moment’s notice.

He had little choice but to wait – no sense in risking his health over trying to find something to light a fire with. That and he didn’t plan on staying still for longer than he had to. He was beginning to feel a light amount of warmth permeate through his limbs and head, slowly but surely. The tremors eased into shivers.

The almost far away voice of the HEV droned on.

_'Warning: Body temperature at 34 degrees. Hypothermia risk is imminent.'_

He didn’t realise his eyes had closed.

A distant, high-pitched whine and the sound of something metallic toppling over echoed from the exit to the room.

Gordon woke up with a start and tore the lab coats off him, snatching the crowbar by his feet as he stood. Rapidly scanning the area revealed nothing nearby. Holding his breath, he waited for further noise.

Nothing came.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Gordon plucked the glasses from his face and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with a knuckle. How long had he been out for? He had no sense of time anymore.

His body must have been so exhausted that it shut down. After all he had gone through it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. The rest was dearly needed, even if it was unintentional. He had recovered stamina and stabilised his temperature, at a cost of progress.

Slipping his glasses back on his nose, Gordon rolled his shoulders and loosened his neck.

_Time to go..._

Crowbar firmly in hand, he left his nest of lab coats behind and headed around the corner to the wide hall leading to the exit.

A double door had been jammed open with a crate and didn’t appear to be working. On the wall next to it was a red, glowing sign warning that the following area was restricted to those below Level 4 access. That wasn’t enough to tell him where he was, though.

Gordon heaved the crate through the doors just enough to let him get past, finding the scenery had changed to a low, tiled ceiling, grey tiled floor and narrow corridors made up of ribbed metal panels. Dials, meters and switches were built into the panels opposite, a grated walkway giving him a glimpse of large pipes above. Oil barrels and tanks of gas were left in the corners by the doors.

To his surprise the lights and power seemed to be functional down here, giving him a well-lit area to search through. Checking the right side showed him the body of someone underneath a fallen step ladder – the weight of the top step on the back of his neck. Even from here he could tell it was crushed. He quickly took the left side to avoid looking at it further.

The tight, winding corners made him wary. Aside from the sounds of machinery there was no sign of life so far. He expected to run into one of those crab-headed monsters at any moment and now that he knew just how dangerous they were, he couldn’t afford to get cornered.

Instead, he reached a long hallway with a ramp. The walls and floor were coated in a thin layer of frost and the air had a lingering, chilly dampness to it. A foggy window on his left partially showed him a few damaged nitrogen tanks, letting out mist and freezing the room they were in.

As Gordon glanced at the group of pipes that snaked into the ceiling and walls above the corridor, he noticed something dangling from above them. He mistook it for thin rope at first, or a hanging wire, but on closer inspection it was yellow-green with a faint shine to it. Following it with his eyes, he stared at what it belonged to.

Attached to the ceiling was a large, organic mass composed of little more than an enormous mouth filled with two rows of sharp teeth. It had a tan, leathery outer ‘shell’ with hooked spines growing out of it, protecting its fleshy innards with four large fangs. It didn’t move or respond to him being there, merely clicking its fangs and lowering what could only be its ‘tongue’ to just above the ramp.

Four more of the creatures were dotted around it in a cluster, idly waiting for something to catch like a living fly trap.

Somewhat bewildered by the sight of something other than the crabs or warped corpses of his co-workers, Gordon didn’t notice another descending cord until it latched around his neck and tightened like a noose. Letting out a choked gasp, he grabbed it with his free hand, trying to loosen its grip. The tongue held fast, covered with a very strong natural adhesive which not only clung to the suit, but also stuck his hand in place.

The creature above, sensing its struggling prey, retracted its sticky appendage with instinctual reflex. To his surprise and horror, it dragged him off his feet as if he weighed nothing.

Gordon kicked his legs, unable to breathe and forced to watch helplessly as he was hoisted to the ceiling. The shell around the giant mouth opened widely and revealed the toothy maw which dragged and reeled in the tongue, bringing him closer and closer to it. At this distance, the thing was much larger than he thought – so big in fact that it could potentially swallow him whole.

He wasn’t willing to test that potential. Gritting his teeth and bearing with the pain of more suffocation, he readied the crowbar. There was no sense in striking the shell; he had to hit the inner parts for his escape to have a chance of succeeding... And that meant waiting until the last moment.

As the jaws started to close and clamp around his shoulders, Gordon winced and rammed the wedge of the crowbar into the open maw of the beast inches from his head. It let out a strained, guttural sound of pain, the tongue releasing him and its stickiness vanishing. Gasping for oxygen, Gordon fell the – thankfully short – distance back to the floor, landing on his side with a grunt.

Coughing and holding his neck, Gordon eyed the creature as he dragged himself out of range. Its entire form writhed before the shell relaxed and hung open, whilst the innards turned inside out, vomiting fluids mixed with green blood onto the floor. A skull and a few human bones landed in the mess. The tongue hung lifelessly, still retracted.

Taking ragged breaths, Gordon stared at the skull until his stomach somersaulted. He shivered, looking away. Others hadn’t been so lucky.

_Too close... At least they don’t have legs._

Some relief perhaps, but they were still in his way. Whether their location was a strategic choice or completely random, they had successfully made the corridor perilous. There was no way he’d make it past them without being detected. The slippery surface was just the icing on the cake.

Gathering himself, Gordon got to his feet and observed the hanging tongues with a frown, thinking. He snapped his fingers, face lighting up.

Leaving the crowbar leant against the wall, he headed back through the corridor and gathered whatever barrels or tanks he could carry and brought them to the ramp. Placing one at the edge on its side, he held it in place with his boot.

“Let’s hope this works...” He muttered.

Like any good experiment, he tested it first. He let go of the barrel and let it roll down the ramp. As soon as it hit one of the tongues, it was immediately stuck. The creature above wasted no time in dragging it up, thinking it was food.

A small, boyish grin appeared on his face, taking some measure of pride in that he could outwit them. It was the only thing that had gone right so far.

Wasting no time, he turned and grabbed the crowbar and began to kick the other barrels down the ramp. Each tongue snatched them up, leaving him a gap to get through. He took a running start and hopped off the ramp, one foot in front of the other as he slid down towards the wall at the end as if he were skiing without the skis.

He made it through without a hitch, catching the wall with his hand and coming to a stop. Whilst the creatures on the ceiling were so busy chewing on metal, he was well out of their reach. It was an exhilarating rush and Gordon couldn’t help but let loose a nervous laugh mixed with a relieved sigh.

As he looked through the passage into the next room, he saw someone standing atop of the walkway, watching him.

It was the man in the suit!

Gordon’s relief vanished and he felt the same unease as before, but mixed with confusion. How had he ended up down here? He pushed off the wall and scraped remnants of frost from under his boots, frowning.

“You... Who _are_ you? How did you get down here?”

The man said nothing, watching him calmly, but coldly with an unending stare. He wasn’t hurt and there wasn’t a speck of blood or dirt over his pristine clothes or his black briefcase.

Annoyed by the silence, Gordon strode forward. He wanted answers and after finding nothing but the dead, it just rubbed salt in the wound that he found someone alive who didn’t want to talk.

“Answer me!” He demanded.

The man smirked and turned away from him, walking through the open door he stood next to as if he was on a casual stroll. This only infuriated Gordon further and he darted forwards, the door closing and locking.

“Hey! Stop!”

There was definitely something weird going on with that suited man. Had he caused this? He didn’t look afraid or even remotely bothered about what was happening. Gordon glared at the closed door, but a disturbing thought distracted him.

_Was he... Waiting for me? Did he know I was coming?_

“No... No, don’t be ridiculous.” He shook his head.

Whatever the case was, he was gone now and the walkway – for the moment – was beyond his reach.

In the long room he found himself were two large tanks designated ‘Temperature Control’ and their unit number, a single red pipe running into the floor behind each. They conjoined into one, trailing underneath the walkway and winding around the corner. Above, a sign on the walkway wall informed him that there were feeding locations for the tanks, one on the left wing and one on the right where that man went. Large windows on the left wall revealed a second misty room and even more damaged tanks.

He wasn’t going to distract himself with a wild goose chase. He needed to focus on his goal, however strange this was. Deciding to follow the red pipe as a point of reference, he walked past the tanks and remained cautious.

The last window on the wall smashed open, something flying out of the room behind it and scattering shards of glass everywhere like tiny diamonds. Gordon yelped and staggered backwards, covering his face with his left arm, broken glass hitting the suit with tiny metallic rings.

When the glass settled, he lowered his arm and saw the tripedal creature, roughly the size of a large dog, skid along the floor clumsily.

Its whole body was a thorax and three strong legs with two stubby claws on its feet. Having yellow-green, reptilian skin with electric blue stripes, it reminded Gordon of some sort of tropical lizard or amphibian. As it turned towards him, he saw that in place of its head was a huge, insectoid compound eye made up of black orbs. A thin ring of pink muscle around the outside stretched vertically like an eyelid, covering the eye twice as if it were blinking at him.

Gordon blinked back, unsure of what to make of it.

_These things just get stranger and stranger by the second..._

The two stared at one another, both human and alien uncertain of how to react. In the hope that this one _wasn’t_ going to try and devour him, Gordon awkwardly waved at it. The three-legged being followed the movement of his hand, blinking once.

“... Right. If you don’t mind, I’ll just... Go.”

Gordon gave it a wide berth, stepping around it and watching it warily. The creature turned with him skittishly, letting out a high-pitched yip. It even sounded a bit like a dog.

“Not going to hurt you if you stay right there...” He warned, adjusting his hold on the crowbar.

As he carefully retreated, the creature yipped again, then again, becoming more and more agitated and even moving towards him. In response, Gordon struck the crowbar on the floor near it, which made it back off and scurry around the corner in fear.

Surprised his tactic actually worked, Gordon relaxed.

_Finally, something running away from **me** for a change._

Nodding firmly, he was about to investigate the broken window when he heard the scampering of feet. He looked to the corner again and saw the creature return... With two more following it.

It was part of a pack.

_Or not..._

Gordon backed off quickly, the three moving to surround him. They yipped at him aggressively, lowering into a defensive stance.

One of them let out a squeal that increased in volume the longer it continued, soon becoming so unbearable that Gordon had to cover an ear. The markings on its back glowed brighter at each octave. The other two joined in the chorus and the sound rose to a painful crescendo that was almost deafening. Gordon yelled, crippled by the sheer intensity that bore into his skull.

The next thing he knew, he was being thrown across the room. Everything blurred and he couldn’t hear anything but a shrill ring. He hit the floor once, then twice, the noise of impact and his own voice muffled and distant. After a short, rolling tumble, he came to a stop.

Disorientated and dazed, he forgot where he was until that annoying yipping returned. He felt something nip at his gloved fingers and a tug on his leg, swinging an arm out to dissuade the surrounding pack as he fought to stand. Realising he was still alive, the three backed off and moved to regroup.

They were a lot more dangerous than he anticipated. Alone they may have been weak, but in a group they appeared to be capable of harmonic, sonic force that hit like a truck and almost ruptured his ear drums. If he hadn’t been wearing the HEV suit, chances were he would either be severely injured or dead.

Yipping, the pack charged at him.

Having little time to recover, he stumbled into a run. He could barely see straight, the world still spinning, but he could make out the shape of the tanks. Using them as a both a support and an obstacle, he fled from the trio – which were now trying to bite him with incisor-like beaks on their underbelly, rearing up to do so.

He swung the crowbar behind him, hitting one of them away from his leg. It cried out, skidding and falling over, but it swiftly rejoined the back of the group.

The window was a way out, but he wouldn’t have the time to climb with them snapping at his heels. He ran another lap around the tanks to try and tire them out a little, before turning left past the window and into the next corridor.

He skidded to a halt, only finding a locked door on his left and a jammed double door on his right.

Gordon was trapped.

Panting, he turned to the hounds that approached him slowly, cornering him. They growled, lowering their stances and seemingly getting ready to charge their shockwave again. With nowhere to go, he’d be launched into the wall behind and at this distance, he doubted even the suit could withstand it.

Taking a fearful step backwards, doubting he could take three on at once with just the crowbar, the panel below him rang hollow. He looked down, moving his foot and saw the handle of the maintenance hatch between his legs.

The pack began to whine and Gordon quickly knelt down to tug the hatch open and tossed the lid at one of the hounds; knocking it away. The other two, undeterred, continued. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the rising pain and dropped the crowbar down the hatch.

Just as the sound got unbearable, he positioned himself on the ladder and put both hands and feet on the outer rails.

He slid down as the wave slammed into the wall he was standing by and rattled the top of the hatch. The sound thundered down the hole he was descending into, making him wince, but he was unharmed aside from a headache and ringing ears.

It didn’t take long before his boots found the floor. The ladder wasn’t that tall, but the drop was not something the hounds were willing to try. They gathered at the entrance, watching him with their many eyes.

Gordon grabbed the crowbar and slumped against the wall of the concrete tunnel, pushing himself along it with his left hand. The agitated creatures yipped and growled, almost daring him to come back.

“Not... Not today...” He muttered breathlessly.

He was just glad the lenses of his glasses hadn’t shattered.

The narrow passage was partially lit by a caged light bulb near the ladder and another at the far end. A red light next to a pipe with many small valves jutting out of it lit up the two much larger ones running along the right side. He stepped in a couple of shallow puddles as he walked, needing to duck now and then under low, dripping ceilings.

This was a good recipe for disaster, he first thought, but there was not a single human or mutated corpse in sight. An uneventful, short trip took him to another ladder.

Not hearing anything near the exit, he climbed up and found himself inside the locked room he had previously been trapped by. The muffled yips of the hounds sounded from behind the door.

He was safe from them for the moment.

What he _wasn’t_ safe from were the other residents on the level, a crab leaping at him the moment he turned the corner. He batted it away with the crowbar like it was a baseball out of surprised reflex and it hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

Although Gordon made a face in disgust, he felt a small degree of satisfaction also. It was revenge for Banner, Wilson and the many others who they had changed and killed. These things were no better than vermin.

The frosted window at the next turn showed him the leaking tanks again, half-buried in mounds of ice. At the far end of the hall to his right was a partially open door that was misaligned and jammed. A bloody streak led into the darkened room behind it, dragged handprints and splatters over the door frame. It was a sight that was becoming the norm, but it never got any easier to see.

Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, Gordon approached with the crowbar ready. No sound came from the other side of the door and he almost considered it a dead end until he saw the stairwell next to it leading up. He didn’t feel comfortable turning his back on the mess and so climbed the steps side-ways with his back against the wall, allowing him to see in both directions.

His caution gave him the advantage. Beyond the railings around the stairs knelt one of the warped scientists, tearing into the barely recognisable carcass of another staff member. It paused and looked up from its meal and Gordon held his breath, watching it.

Snarling, the creature looked left and right. Not noticing Gordon, it lowered its head and went back to eating.

Adjusting his hold on the crowbar, Gordon took the last few steps to the top and slowly approached the monster from behind. The space was far too small to avoid it and after his last encounter – which still haunted him – he was left with little other option.

Raising the crowbar high and readying it for a swing, he had a perfect opening to strike it in the head. Again, morals and conscience tried to stop him – his hand trembling. He needed to breathe soon and it’d hear him if he gasped.

_They’re not human anymore, Gordon. The least you can do is put them out of their misery._

Bracing himself, he swung. The curve hit the back of the crab and the skull underneath with a fleshy thump and a gargled cry came from the scientist as it slumped over the corpse it was eating. He swung again – something cracking – then he repeated, again and again.

Eat hit produced a more gut-wrenching noise. Green and red blood poured from the misshapen crab’s innards and only when there wasn’t much left to hit did he stop.

Shaking, Gordon panted quietly and covered his mouth with his other hand, looking away. He summoned as much willpower as he could to stop himself from throwing up.

He felt terrible.

Forcing his stiffened legs to step over the bludgeoned corpse and the chewed remains, he stumbled into the room ahead.

Two wide pipes were mounted next to the wall in front of him, partially illuminated by a red light above the valve handle attached to the one on the right. The sign nearby informed him that this was one of the hot water feed valves. He walked over, studying the temperature gauge underneath it, which currently read -96 degrees. No wonder, considering all of the nitrogen turning the area into Antarctica.

Before being chased by the hounds, he remembered seeing a safety warning. Something about temperature controlled storage and normalising the temperature before entering. Even if he _could_ bypass the safety locks on the doors, he’d surely freeze to death far faster than swimming in icy water.

He was no technician but he’d just have to wing it. The place was already collapsing and suffering major damage, it wasn’t as if he could do much worse.

Shrugging, he grabbed the handle and turned it, watching the screen above the light fill with a red bar. At full, he heard a rush of steam and a single, blaring bleep.

Gordon was too eager to get away from the dead scientist to really think about what the noise meant. He just hoped it wasn’t about to blow up.

Some of the panels on the walls had been taken down throughout the corridor, showing the tangled, complex network of piping behind them. A passing curiosity made him wonder if the maintenance crew had been trying to fix something before the incident.

A tank had toppled and smashed into the window he approached, allowing freezing trails to drift through the open hole. The condition of the other, badly damaged tank he could see and the room thickly layered with ice wasn’t filling him with much hope and dread knotted his stomach.

Oh how he _really_ didn’t want to go in there.

Something moved just around the corner and he turned to meet it, raising the crowbar defensively.

Instead of a zombie, a hound or whatever other fresh hell that was going to try and kill him today, it was a scientist. A living, breathing scientist! They looked just as surprised as he was.

“Oh, thank god! Someone alive! That – that suit, you must be from Sector C, right?” The middle-aged man asked timidly.

Gordon quickly lowered the crowbar to his side, not wanting his first impression to be that of a maniac. He nodded, struggling to find words. He’d been alone for so long now that he never thought of what to say when he finally found somebody.

The scientist sighed with relief, rising from the stack of cardboard boxes he’d been sitting on and dusting off his lab coat. His umber hands were rough and scratched, damaged by the temperature they had been exposed to.

“I didn’t think anyone was going to find me here. Those... Eye-dog-things – whatever they are – they chased me in here with a few others. They wanted to hide in the storage closet but I’m not... Good in small spaces. When I heard the screaming, I...”

He looked down at the floor, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his palms.

“I just covered my ears and waited.”

Gordon watched the man with sympathy. His actions might have saved his life, but he was also guilt ridden. It wasn’t an easy choice to make.

“It’s not your fault... You did what you had to.”

“I... I know I did, but I feel nothing but shame. I was a coward.” The man sobbed quietly.

Glancing downwards and off to the side, Gordon felt empathy, but this also not a good place for a heart to heart. One of them could be in the closet still. He looked back to him then, speaking calmly, but firmly.

“Listen... I’m trying to get to the surface and call for help. Can you help me?”

The man looked up from his palms to Gordon and stared at him like he was mad, wiping at his eyes.

“What? You want to go out _there_? Are you crazy?”

“I have to try.”

“Well... Better you than me, but...” He paused, rubbing at his chin.

“There’s a security office not far from here which I can unlock for you. No doubt that might have some weapons you can use... Something better than – well – that.” He motioned to the crowbar in Gordon’s hand.

Gordon peered at the crowbar with a quizzical expression.

“Come on.” The man motioned for Gordon to follow him.

Staying close and being ready to defend him should anything try to get in their way, Gordon glanced to the scientist.

“Did you see a man in a suit around here, before or after the incident?”

The scientist, hugging himself, looked at Gordon with a raised brow.

“A man in a suit? Can’t say I have... Why?”

Gordon frowned a little, but shook his head.

“Never mind.”

“You haven’t been breathing in coolant fumes, have you?”

Gordon decided not to keep the subject going, making the scientist shrug. They travelled back around the corridor and past the valve he’d turned before. This time the door next to the pipes was unlocked by his companion, which led to the walkway above the room where the hounds were.

The two slowed down and quietly made their way across, Gordon taking the lead. The hounds couldn’t get to them, but he didn’t want to risk them bringing the walkway down with their shockwaves. They were sitting by the hatch still, expecting him to come back.

A tense walk later and Gordon found himself in the same spot that the man in the suit had stood earlier. He nervously glanced at the door, not expecting to see him waiting on the other side, but he couldn’t suppress his feeling of discomfort.

The door opened and the two headed inside. At the end of the small junction was the second manual override valve, with a turn to the left. Before Gordon had the chance to scout out the corner, the scientist was already jogging ahead of him, a bit too desperate for safety perhaps.

“It’s just around here!”

“W-wait!” Gordon cried, darting after him.

He hadn’t gone far. In fact Gordon almost ran into the back of him as he stood frozen in place, trembling.

“M-my god... That’s Bennett...”

Moving to stand next to the scientist, Gordon tensed. The torn open corpse of another scientist lay on the floor by the security offices’ window. Blood and gore covered the tiles and some of the glass. A twitching, crab-headed co-worker was taking chunks of meat and organs and feeding the maw in its chest.

“Holy shit...” The scientist covered his mouth, staring in disbelief.

“I’ll distract it. Get the door open.” Gordon muttered.

The scientist didn’t respond, prompting Gordon to look at him and give him a nudge. He flinched out of his terrified stare and looked back.

“B-but...”

Gordon offered a fleeting smile, trying to reassure him.

“I’ll protect you. Go.”

Taking a sharp breath and plucking up courage, the man jogged to the retinal scanner near the mess. The creature looked up at the noise and hauled itself to its feet with a groan, beginning to shamble forwards.

“Left... Usssss... Johnssson... You left... Ussss...” It moaned, reaching its claws out to the scientist.

“S-scott...? Is – is that you...?” The man paused, staring at it.

“Left... Ussss... Left usss to die...”

As it lunged at the screaming scientist, Gordon launched forwards and swung the crowbar at its head, knocking it into the wall behind. It clawed at the panels, leaving grooves in the metal, but stayed upright.

Its focus was on a petrified-looking Johnson but when Gordon stepped in front, its head turned to him.

“I... I’m s-sorry, Scott. I’m s-so sorry...” Dr. Johnson whispered, turning to the retinal scanner.

The machine gave out an error bleep.

“Damn – hang on...”

The zombie pushed itself off the wall and hobbled towards Gordon. He went to meet it. It swiped at him and he weaved to the side – the talons just missing the suit’s plating. Snarling, it swiped again, forcing Gordon to duck out of the way. It was dangerous but it had a slow reaction time, allowing him to swing the crowbar up as he stood – hitting it under the jaw in an uppercut.

A gargling growl escaped it as it staggered backwards, but it wasn’t down yet. Gordon didn’t know how long he could keep this up for.

“Is it working!?”

“It’s having trouble connecting; just give me a bit longer!”

Blood ran down the creature’s chest from its now hanging jaw, seen just underneath the crab’s mandibles. It only seemed angrier rather than weaker, lunging at Gordon. With the short distance between them he couldn’t aim for the head properly, so he rammed the wedge of the crowbar into its chest instead, which only got deeper as it fell on him.

The two crashed to the floor, Gordon trapped underneath it. Having flashbacks of his near-death experience, he tried to escape quickly, with the monster attempting to keep him pinned. He left the crowbar where it was, punching the crab out of desperation. The reinforced plates under the glove created a dent in the fleshy helmet and stunned the mutated Scott momentarily.

Grabbing the zombie by the shoulders and rolling to the side, he pushed it off of him with a grunt.

A confirming bleep came from the scanner, the door sliding open.

“It’s open!” Johnson cried.

Gordon got to his feet, moving to join Johnson, but the monster was just as fast.

“Look out!”

Gordon turned just as it leapt at him again and they revisited the floor with a crash. Johnson backed off and ran into the open office, the door closing behind him.

“Johnson!” Gordon called, not getting a reply.

Left to wrestle the zombie alone, he tried to push the thing off him with his arm and the crowbar still jammed in its chest as leverage. It was losing momentum and strength – green blood seeping out of the wound around the crowbar’s puncture. Using it to his advantage, he twisted the tool and tore the hole wider; foul-smelling ichor pouring out onto the suit. A gargled cry came from the monster and it slumped lifelessly.

Taking a moment to catch his breath – through his mouth to avoid breathing in the heavy stench – he didn’t notice that the crab was still moving until he heard it detach itself from the corpse. By the time he looked, it was too late.

The crab tried to land on his head, its fleshy mouth opening wide.

Something collided with the creature, sending it to the floor. It twitched before going still.

“Get off him!”

Eyes closed and grimacing, Gordon didn’t realise that he was not in fact dreaming the voice of Johnson until the corpse was hauled off him. He opened them, looking up to the sweating scientist who dropped the broken keyboard.

Gordon stared at him, dumbfounded.

“S-shit... Are you okay?” Dr. Johnson asked worriedly.

Dr. Freeman managed a small nod, thoroughly shaken. Johnson wasted no time in trying to help him up.

“It’s alright, I got you... Come on, get in here.”

Johnson brought Gordon into the office, the door sliding closed behind them. He moved him to the chair and let him sit down, before leaning against the desk terminal to catch his breath.

“I don’t know what they make those HEVs out of, but I am glad you were wearing one... Though, if you don’t mind me saying – you look like hell.”

Gordon glanced down to his suit and gloves, now covered in a mixture of sticky green and red blood along with dark ichor, not smelling particularly pleasant. He tried not to focus on it too much, swallowing dryly.

“I – uh – look worse than I feel...” He muttered pulling off his glasses and rubbing off a speck of green from one of the lenses, leaving an annoying smudge.

“Here, let me. Least I can do.” Johnson offered his hand.

Gordon offered the glasses over and Johnson cleaned them with his lab coat carefully whilst he quietly spoke.

“I didn’t mean to leave you like that... I know I was a coward once – I can only imagine what you were thinking – but I wasn’t going to let someone else die whilst I did nothing. It won’t bring back Scott, but...”

He offered the glasses back and Gordon took them with a small smile and a nod, slipping them back on.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it... But this is the end of the road for me. I’m not suited up like you and I don’t think I could stomach fighting more of ... Them. There’s a weapon locker over there; someone left a gun behind and some ammo. I can’t see a better person to take them than you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine here. Nothing around, I can lock the door and I think there’s some snacks in the cupboard. I won’t starve to death.”

Nodding, Gordon stood from the chair and walked over to the weapon locker behind an open security gate. A single, loaded Glock 17 was secured inside, along with an extra clip of ammunition. It wasn’t much but it was far better than relying on the crowbar for everything. He took the handgun, testing its weight in his hand and checked the safety was on.

_'Munition level monitoring: activated.'_

Gordon blinked as the HEV spoke up. He hadn’t expected that.

“Guess that thing wasn’t just made to look good...” Dr. Johnson joked dryly.

Not about to question the suit, Gordon took the last holster and secured it around his right thigh – awkwardly at first due to the plating covering most of it – until it was tight enough and comfortable. He slipped the handgun inside, with the clip sitting snugly in the compartment behind it.

“Now you look a little more formidable. I just hope you don’t have to use it that much.”

Gordon left the locker and stepped out to meet Dr. Johnson, who stood and offered his hand to him.

“Thank you... What was your name?”

“Gordon Freeman.”

“Freeman, huh? Swear I’ve heard your name somewhere before... Anyway, thank you, Dr. Freeman. I’m forever grateful to you. Now you get to that surface and run like hell, understand?”

Nodding, Gordon took Johnson’s hand and shook it firmly.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. Stay safe, Dr. Johnson.”

The scientist smiled some, nodding to him and releasing his hand. Gordon turned to the door and stepped through once it opened.

When it closed, it closed for good, locking behind him. A metal shutter lowered over the window, protecting the already thick glass.

Gordon was alone once more, but with a new form of defence and some hope to boot. He let out a heavy sigh, knowing what he was about to do and glanced at the corpse of Scott.

A few tugs pried the messy crowbar free and he flicked what excess he could off as he walked back to the manual override valve.

The temperature for the storage area was currently -41 degrees. He turned the valve until the bar on the screen filled completely.

The light on the temperature panel turned green and the bleep sounded again, along with a rush of water from the pipe. It looked as if he had fixed the problem, but he needed to go and check the main gauge to be certain.

To do that, he was going to need to get past the hounds.

Slipping through the door and onto the walkway, Gordon peered into the large room. The hounds had since stopped being so interested in the hatch and had gathered in the corner, lying on the floor. Their ‘eyes’ were closed and they shuffled a bit now and then. Had they fallen asleep?

He decided to use that to his advantage. The water tanks were just below the walkway, so he carefully climbed over the railing and dropped onto one of them as gently as he could manage. A low thrum came from it, making one of the hounds stir a little, before it settled once more.

_Phew..._

A smooth slide to the floor completed his descent and he crept along the tiles towards the gauge. It was lit up in green, which must have been a good thing as the door that was once locked had also been released; he could just about see it through the shattered window.

Eyeing the sleeping hounds, he stayed low and moved slowly to avoid waking them. If he could save the bullets now, he’d have them for when he was desperate later. There was no sense starting a fight if he could avoid it. Barney would have advised differently, he was certain.

Each step was torture, but the hounds did not wake. He made it up the ramp and to the open door, which closed behind him.

There was little time for a break. The air was biting cold because of the leaking nitrogen and the ice made the floor a little difficult to traverse. He didn’t want to stay there for too long, not after finally getting warm.

Sliding through into the awaiting storage chamber, he peered up at the massive tanks through the mist. He shivered, navigating his way towards the green lights of the awaiting door.

It closed, keeping the uncomfortable cold at bay.

Gordon had a new corridor to explore and it was already a bad sign that one of those barnacle-like growths had made its home on the ceiling. In this case, however, he was able to get around it without much issue, but he drew the handgun and kept it levelled in both hands for reassurance – flicking the safety off with his thumb. The crowbar was tucked through the holster for the time being. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.

_“Just point and shoot.”_ Barney had so _helpfully_ instructed on his first time at the range. Gordon thought he’d forgotten that he had never held a gun in his life.

_“I thought there was more to it than that...”_

_“Well, yeah, but that’s kind of the basics. You see an asshole; you aim at them and blam! Hah...”_

_“... Are you serious?”_

_“... No, Gordon. Do you have to take me so literally? Oh come on, don’t give me that look – we’re supposed to be having fun!”_

_“Shooting things to death isn’t my idea of fun.”_

_“Don’t be such a stick in the mud! This could save your life, you know? One day you’ll thank me for it.”_

As he turned the corner of the corridor, he was forced out of his thoughts by a flying barrel, needing to press against the wall to avoid getting hit by it. It slammed into the back of the hallway, cracking the concrete.

“Ah...!”

A writhing, mutated guard scratched at the walls and tore at pipes in what could have been destructive rage. He’d already seen one of them hurt themselves, so there was a chance that this was part of the horrible process. He couldn’t imagine going through something like that and if it wasn’t for Johnson he might have got the opportunity.

Noticing Gordon, it snarled and lumbered towards him. Gordon aimed the handgun at its head and tried to steady his shaking hands.

_“That’s right, hold it like that. Gotta be firm with it, but not so much that it starts shaking. You’ll get a feel for it after a while. Your dominant arm needs to stay straight and your other one can bend just a little. It’s all about balance.”_

His finger rested on the trigger as his eyes trailed down the sights and then to the target. He inhaled, holding his breath. The sights moved with the beating of his heart.

_“Notice how the sights are moving? If you look at how they move, they trace a small figure eight. You have to pull the trigger when the sights come to the bottom of the pattern.”_

_“How do you have the time to do all that with something that’s moving?”_

_“Well... You don’t. You have to do all of this in a split second. It’s kind of natural for me now, but I’ve been doing this sort of thing since I was a kid. Don’t let that discourage you, though – you’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can figure it out. Eventually.”_

_“Your confidence in me is always reassuring, Calhoun.”_

_“Man, don’t give me the surname treatment – you know I hate it.”_

_“Only because it means you’re in trouble.”_

_“Smartass.”_

Gordon pulled the trigger twice, one bullet hitting it in the chest and the second was a near-perfect shot in the centre of the zombie’s head. It staggered backwards, before falling to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Exhaling quietly, he relaxed. He doubted his chances with a target running at him, but he could at least fire the damn thing. His arms shook after being under so much tension and his heart thudded in his chest. There was a certain excitement that came from firing a gun that was unavoidable, but apparently this was normal for a beginner.

He walked down the corridor slowly, glancing at the dead guard sadly as he passed.

“... Thanks, Barney.”

Quiet returned to the labyrinthine sector. The large room awaiting him was empty but his eyes were once again drawn to the red wording of the security access sign by a sparking, broken door. Another maintenance hatch, opened with its lid pushed aside, lay before it.

It made sense to follow. If others had got out that way, he could too.

He’d only taken a few steps when a bright green flash appeared behind a sealed door ahead. Its sickly light seeped through the cracks, casting an eerie glow that reflected over the metal floor and walls.

Gordon brought his free hand up, shielding his eyes. The light was so intense that he could still see it through his closed lids.

In just a few seconds it was over.

Lowering his hand, Gordon opened his eyes and blinked the glare away, watching the door. A harsh thud came from it, making him flinch.

Another hit, louder, made the metal bubble outward. Those doors were a good few inches thick! What could make it bend so easily?

Two more slams came from the other side, denting the door and buckling it with creaking protest. Sparks came from its electronics, being damaged in the process. Gordon was already backing away to the corner he came from, feeling it was better to hide than be out in the open.

Green light shone behind the door again, but this time it was joined by the sound of electricity. It took him back to the Spectrometer and in retrospect that was more than enough to make him fear for his life, not the brutal show of force. He retreated around the corner and timidly peeked out.

The door was blasted off its hinges and away in the form of a dazzling, smoking missile that scraped along the metal floor, creating sparks up until the point it came to a halt. Unable to stop himself from staring, Gordon watched the large shape move out of the darkened room – thin claws grabbing the doorway it lurched through.

It was one of the many-eyed creatures from his dream... Which he suddenly doubted was a dream at all.

A low rumble escaped from its throat as it looked around, stepping forward to observe its surroundings. As it turned his way, Gordon quickly ducked behind the wall and covered his mouth with his hand.

This was a lot to take in at a moment’s notice. Had he really gone to another place, another _world_? These... Invaders, for lack of a better word, were coming from _somewhere_. Was that what he saw? The fabric of reality as he knew it was being torn down, but he wasn’t being given the chance to understand it.

His thoughts were a jumbled, incoherent mess, mixed with panic.

The creature snarled viciously in its guttural language, perhaps displeased with where it was. It began to walk around the room, the claws on its feet clacking against the tiles.

He couldn’t stay there. It would find him eventually and the way back was closed. He could run to the hatch to escape, but it could also hit him like it did with that door. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

Peeking around the corner again carefully, he saw the creature walk off to the right and out of his view. He gingerly stepped forward and tried to cushion his steps as best as he could manage, keeping close to the wall. A quick glance around the next corner showed the creature slowly making its way to the other side of the room.

If he was fast, he’d make it.

Gordon kept a low profile and made a beeline for the hatch with a light, hurried advance. He hadn’t considered the creature being able to use ladders or not, he just wanted to get as far away from it as possible.

The crowbar slipped from the holster and fell onto the floor with an echoing clang.

A noise of alarm came from the creature and it began to turn. Gordon darted away from his precious tool – forced to leave it behind – to hide in the room the alien had materialised in.

Ironically it was a supply closet for ammunition. A weapon locker with a handgun clip inside, a sealed container and a low shelf was all there was. He’d trapped himself again. There was no time to lament; the clicking steps were getting nearer. His eyes flicked between what little he was given and they caught the space underneath the shelf. It wasn’t big, but it was something.

No sooner as he crawled inside, the creature made it to the crowbar. He heard it being picked up and there was more muttering in words that made no sense. Since he couldn’t understand what it was saying, he tried to focus on the tone of its voice instead. At the moment it sounded puzzled, no doubt wondering where the crowbar had come from.

It dropped it. The sound of its claws tapping against the floor drew closer and it cast a long, horrific shadow that engulfed the small closet as it stepped inside.

Gordon trembled in his cramped position under the shelf and held the handgun in both hands. This was like a living nightmare. Never in his wildest dreams did he envisage something so terrifying happening to him. Time and time again he begged to be released from this limbo, to return to the normal life he knew in Black Mesa, where his biggest problems were asshole head scientists.

A foot landed on the floor just next to him and an irritable rasp rumbled through the top of the shelf. He held his breath, his shaking finger hovering over the trigger.

_Just go away, just go away. Just go away!_

He really wanted to avoid fighting it in a small space. He really wanted to avoid fighting it period. It was larger, stronger and far more formidable than anything he’d faced so far. Would bullets even kill it? How many would it take? Would he even be able to empty a clip into it before it tore him to pieces?

After what felt like hours of waiting, the creature turned and stepped back out of the supply closet with a snarling sigh. It didn’t touch the crowbar again from what he could make out and the sound of its footfalls got further and further away.

He finally allowed himself to breathe.

Gordon peered from underneath his hiding place, looking out of the closet and to the creature that was approaching the corpse of a dead scientist slumped against the wall. It reached down and wrapped its gnarled fingers around one of the legs, then proceeded to drag it off – disappearing out of view.

_Do these things just want to... Eat us?_

It harked back to his first encounter with them. They seemed more sentient then, but they did try to stop him from escaping – or teleporting away, as the case now seemed to be. Shuddering at the thought, he dragged himself out quietly. He rose to his feet, snatching the clip of ammunition and tucking it away with the other one.

Trying to calm himself down, he focused on his goal. He approached the doorway with caution, glancing out of it. He could just see the creature at the very far end of the room, in a small area with containers and large dumpsters, starting to tear into and eat the body in its possession.

Now was this chance.

He crept out of the closet and met the crowbar, snatching it and tucking it back into the holster with a bit more care. From there it was a straight dart for the hatch.

The only problem was that there was no ladder to climb down. He hesitated, seeing that it had come away from its mounting half-way into the shaft. Shallow water rippled inside the dimly lit tunnel below.

A cry of alarm snapped him out of his indecision and he looked behind him.

Now with bloody hands and teeth, the alien had returned. Whether it had heard or sensed him somehow he didn’t know, nor was he given the time to wonder. Its eyes locked onto him with an intensity he could only ascertain to be anger. It spread its claws out, a green light coalescing in each palm and sparking erratically through its digits.

Gordon raised the handgun and shot at it twice, hitting it in the leg and shoulder. Its concentration waned and one light went out like a candle. The other hand flung a bolt of green lightning towards him, but with the creature’s balance impaired the bolt flew slightly off-centre and avoided him by a hair.

It struck the door behind with a thunderous clash, smashing the glass of its windows.

The creature, infuriated further by its pain, charged – claws reaching out to strike.

Overcome with adrenaline from almost being hit and the thing getting uncomfortably close, he pulled the trigger repeatedly. Bullets tore into the creature’s body, sending streams of green blood flying and making it howl in agony as it staggered towards him. Some hit the floor from his panic-stricken aim, but the majority landed on his target.

The gun clicked empty, its slide locking back and exposing the smoking barrel.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

Gordon blinked, the HEV’s voice bringing him back to reality.

At his feet lay the body of the creature, unmoving and full of holes. Green blood pooled around its broken form. Its large eye was open at a slit and the smaller ones were closed.

He won.

His movements were automatic as he ejected the spent clip and plucked a new one from the holster, clicking it into place and pulling the slide back with his finger and thumb. On release it snapped back into a loaded position.

Letting out a slow breath, his eyes flicked from the gun to the dead alien. The collar and wrist devices it wore were the same as what he saw previously, but he couldn’t define their purpose and he also didn’t want to touch them. One thing he _had_ learned was that they were just as vulnerable as he was, but with how much lead he’d fired it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He couldn’t afford to do that again. Once the clips he had were spent he’d be back to the crowbar until he found more and there was no guarantee of that.

Gordon turned to the hatch, flicking the handgun’s safety on and holstering it, trading places with the crowbar. He lowered himself into the hole feet first, then allowed himself to drop.

An echoing splash announced his arrival, the water reaching his shins.

The tunnel was in fact a giant pipe, the flashlight lighting up the damp curved walls as it moved across them. Sloshing grey lapped the sides, like a river with nowhere to go. It was cold, but not unbearably so.

It was also deathly quiet.

He looked back and forth, the HEV showing him a dead end in the form of a steel bars behind and the rest of the pipe in front. Tiny red lights bordered each section, giving him a little bit of guidance, but other than that he was on his own.

Increasingly unnerved and still not settled after his close call, he was hesitant to move from the ladder.

_You have to keep going._

“I... I have to...” He whispered.

Gordon forced his buckling knees to cooperate and propel him forwards, even if it was just a small step at a time. The liquid waved and pushed at his shins, making movement awkward and slow. Ripples bounced light off the roughened surface. Each advance reverberated throughout the pipe, obscuring everything else.

If something was in there with him, he’d never hear it coming.

The pipe turned and he followed it around, his breathing picking up. Paranoia toyed with him as the tiny orb of light threatened to be swallowed by the overpowering darkness, creating shapes out of nothing and making him see shadows in the water. He wanted to close his eyes and run through it, but this was the perfect environment for those hanging mouths. One wrong move, one unchecked area of ceiling and he could be a goner.

He felt something brush against his leg and he almost leapt out of his skin – spinning around and hitting it as he screamed.

The dented barrel bobbed around in the water, floating past him. Gordon panted, holding his chest.

_Nearly gave me a damn heart attack!_

He took a few shaking breaths before continuing, moving around the corner and starting to approach a three way junction. Water churned through his legs, the cold settling into the boots enough to make him feel uncomfortable. His gaze moved from the surface to the space before him, then back again, not settling on one spot for too long. In an effort to keep himself calm, he counted the seconds per each sequence. Repetition, numbers... Things he could make sense of.

Looking to the water for the fifth time, he noticed that the ripples his steps made were met by another set pushing back at them.

Although he stopped immediately, the sound of the choppy waves kept going, filling the pipe with echo upon echo.

The light bobbed slightly with his breathing, catching a shape as it shambled out of the dark, thrashing through the water from the opening ahead. A ravaged scientist snarled and hissed, reaching for him. Claws raked around the corner on his left, digging into the concrete as another appeared and looked towards him, fangs rising in challenge.

Gordon took a step back and moved the crowbar to his left hand. He grabbed the handgun and leant his right arm over his left to steady his aim, moving it between them and watching them carefully.

They were undeterred by the weapon, approaching with little care for their own safety. All they wanted was him.

Holding his breath, he fired two shots at one of them, hitting it in the chest. It stumbled backwards. He turned to meet the closer one, hitting it in the head twice and it dropped like a lead balloon.

With the remaining one still reeling, he raised the crowbar and surged forward with as much speed as the water allowed, swinging the curve at its head. He didn’t have as much control over it in his less dominant hand, but it was enough to send it to its knees. A hiss was cut off as the wedge was rammed through the back of its skull, Gordon twisting it and tugging it out again. It fell limply into the stained murk.

_Please, stop making me do this..._

He shook his head, holding back a grimace and he decided to move a little more quickly through the pipe, taking the right turn. All of the noise probably alerted everyone to dinner now.

At the end of the section was a ladder with a red light above it. He raced forwards but a brief quake rattled the pipe and made him stumble, shaking the ladder loose from its mounting and bringing it down. That must have been what happened to the last one.

In hindsight, if it wasn’t for the rumble stopping him in his tracks, he would have been tangled up in the lashing tongue the glow caught. It was just next to his face.

“AH!” He cried, hopping back and shooting at it thrice. 

Compared to the crowbar, bullets appeared to penetrate the shell quite easily and just three was enough to kill it. Whilst it vomited out its guts, Gordon ran around it with an increasingly desperate desire to leave.

Water was splashed and kicked all around him as he tried to weave around more sticky streamers, a few more barnacles in a cluster making navigation difficult. They tried to latch onto his limbs and head as he passed, sensing vibrations no doubt, but his speed – even inhibited – was saving him.

His footing was getting difficult to place, stepping on hard objects that crumpled under his weight. Despite not looking, he knew they were bones of previous victims and it only spurred him to go faster.

He fled until the pipe prevented him doing so, another barred wall in his way. Only this time it had a valve jutting out of it with a floodgate behind.

The sign doused in red light read; ‘EMERGENCY USE ONLY.’

Gordon considered his plight to be a definite emergency and he turned it as quickly as he could manage.

With a creak and a thud the floodgate opened and the gallons of water behind it began to surge into the pipe, making the water level rise. Having a horrible sense of déjà vu, Gordon turned and waded his way back to where he saw the shaft and the ladder, but was being severely hampered by the tongues still in his path. Every second wasted was another inch of oxygen taken away.

Just as he thought he was free, one of them grasped his wrist, tugging him back. He yelled, struggling to stay upright and turned – firing the gun until it let go. Four more bullets gone. The water was up to his waist now.

It felt like he was getting nowhere, but as the level rose, the tongues pulled back and finally gave him space to move so long as he didn’t get too close. He fought with all of his strength to keep going, until his feet didn’t touch the floor any longer.

Now he was swimming for his life, in a pipe he could barely see in. The ceiling was getting nearer and nearer. Flashes of light, to darkness and then to murk created an almost dizzying sensation to deal with, but he could just make out the red haze of the shaft getting closer. He coughed and spluttered, inhaling water as it lapped over him.

For what would have originally been a sprint had become a marathon, pushing his body to its limits. Adrenaline pumped through his arms and legs, dragging him to the beacon of salvation even as it too started to be overcome. He wasn’t the strongest man – more wiry than muscle – but his will to survive was far greater than he originally gave it credit for.

He reached out, snatching the rung with his free hand and heaved up the ladder and away from the still-rising water. Exhaustion loomed but he refused to stop until he was completely safe, the agonising climb made tricky with holding the gun and the crowbar in one hand.

The jammed door with its broken glass, along with the dead alien he’d shot earlier on the other side, greeted him as he crawled away from the hatch, soaking wet yet again.

Gordon slumped against the wall, leaning his head back and panting. Water ran off the suit and formed a puddle under him; now clean from all of the blood it had collected.

He flicked the safety of the gun on and gave it a shake to free it of excess water, then slid it back into the holster. Thankfully it was waterproof, leaving the remaining cartridge dry inside its pouch. Whilst he took the time to recuperate, he placed the crowbar in his lap and rubbed off a droplet from the left lens of his glasses with a squeak. A little nudge set them on his nose proper once more.

Twice now he had been in situations where he could have drowned. Whilst the elevator shaft was a lot direr, he had been so tired and suffering from the cold that his mind didn’t get the chance to think about it. Now? It was dredging up bad memories from the past that scratched at the surface of his psyche.

It had been around a month or so of working at the facility when the opportunity for HEV training came along. Gordon, feeling unfulfilled and underappreciated by many of his colleagues at the time, considered putting himself up for it, but needed the approval of his peers to do so. Eli and Kleiner were reluctant at first, he was very young and still very new, but his stubbornness won out in the end.

They were right to be worried. Gordon might have been a determined man with an intelligent mind, but he had no real idea of what he was letting himself in for until it happened. There was a good reason why there were so few people capable, it was tough and unforgiving.

For the purpose of the exercises he was to wear a training variant of the HEV suit, an older model than the one he had now and lacking most of the modern features. It resembled a black, tight-fitting jumpsuit with orange metal plates fastened over it and a dark, chunkier carapace, to get the wearer accustomed to the weight of the real thing.

On one particular day, following a series of already gruelling laps through the obstacle course, he was to be unknowingly tested on his reaction to an emergency. The idea was to observe the subject’s behaviour and score them based on how they solved a problem they weren’t prepared for.

He was asked to stand in a chamber with seemingly nothing in it, only for the floor to give way underneath him and deposit him into a pit filled with water. It was about as long and just as deep as an average swimming pool, very different to what he’d been dealing with.

What Gordon _hadn’t_ told them was that he couldn’t swim.

Panic mixed with the heavy suit made him sink immediately and he couldn’t get back up to the surface. He tugged and pulled at the suit desperately to try and remove it, stuck at the bottom of the pool. If the scientists observing, including Eli who had decided to check up on Gordon by chance, weren’t already alarmed, his vital signs going critical certainly did it. The session was terminated immediately and he was fished out, at least that was what he was told.

He woke up in the infirmary later, having fallen unconscious, surrounded by Kleiner, Eli and Barney – who he had never seen so afraid before – and received both affection and harsh words. He was forbidden from training again until he learnt how to swim and it was only due to Eli’s vouching that he hadn’t been struck off the program entirely. His traumatic experience lingered with him for weeks.

That trauma was starting to creep back, even if he was a competent swimmer compared to before.

How long was it going to be before his luck ran out?

Gordon took a slow, deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. Drips pinged off the metal flooring as he began to move down the corridor with a sluggish pace. He was going to have to dry naturally this time.

It was uneventful. The snaking corridors were quiet and lonely, with a leaking ceiling the only point of interest. He wasn’t about to complain, he needed a break.

Soon, he reached a jammed open door taking him through into a wide, open room with a massive cargo lift dominating the centre. Crates and stacks of containers lined the wall on the right with a forklift truck and a high ceiling was ablaze with large, bright lamps. The control room was at the top of a ramp on the left and Gordon wasted no time in heading towards it.

The thick glass windows were littered with bullet impacts and splatters of blood and the interior walls didn’t look much better. He tensed, peering close to the glass and moving his hand over his eyes to try and see inside. Behind the terminal looked to be the elevator’s circuit breaker, which was offline. He couldn’t see the floor for the desks, or hear anything on the other side.

Biting his cheek, he moved to one of the doors and tried to open it.

**_ACCESS DENIED._ **

“That would be too simple...” He muttered, glancing through the window again.

He could just see a ventilation shaft inside the room. When he turned to observe the cargo area he spotted an open duct above some of the larger containers. It looked easy enough to get to.

With nothing around to stop him, he lightly jogged over to the containers and clambered up onto the smaller one, then pulled himself onto the larger ones, reaching the shaft entrance after some careful footwork.

Gordon crawled inside, shuffling through the duct on his hands and knees with the flashlight illuminating the way. He kept the crowbar close, trying to listen past his own breathing and thuds of metal for any signs of life – good or bad.

It was an unlikely place to feel calm or comfort, but it reminded him of better times.

After some turns and long, almost endless straights, he made it to the other side. The exit was a short drop down and the bloody body of a guard lay underneath the opening.

Gordon manoeuvred himself around to drop feet-first and slipped out of the vent, landing heavily on the body’s chest with a soft crunch. It might have broken his fall, but it felt like desecration.

“S-sorry...” He whispered, clambering off it and standing.

Now on the other side of the glass, he could see what the bullets had been aimed at; the corpse of a crab lay crumpled on the desk. Its talons were stained red. Gordon surmised that the guard had killed it but it had fatally wounded him in the process.

There was nothing else for him here. He moved to the circuit breaker and flipped the lever up.

The doors to the control room opened, a bleep coming from them. He jogged back to the elevator, getting aboard and moving to the control panel, which was now lit up.

Gordon didn’t know how to feel about descending even deeper into the facility. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind but there were no alternatives being presented to him. He glanced over the railing to the huge, diagonal shaft and felt nothing but trepidation.

He hit the button before he got second thoughts. A bell rang loudly as the lift slowly descended. Sighing, he prepared for the long ride down, turning to see the cargo bay slowly vanish from view.

The closed vent ducts on both the front and left wall were suddenly thrown off. Gordon blinked.

Dozens of crabs skittered out of the open holes like waterfalls of talons and teeth, scrambling over each other to try and get to him.

Gasping, he turned and hammered the button on the panel as if it would make it go faster. No dice.

The drumming of claws on metal rose in volume and he turned back to see them try and navigate the steep incline. They began to leap in waves, some soaring over his head as he ducked and others landing on the elevator floor. Gordon swung the crowbar relentlessly, hitting whatever got close. He couldn’t let them overwhelm him.

Others skidded down the shaft towards him and jumped. He was being attacked from all angles and he needed to keep moving, dodging and weaving from the onslaught. Swing after swing, he hit and batted the fiends away but they weren’t letting up.

“I’d really like to get off now!”

The elevator, oblivious to the danger, continued its slow descent.

There were so many. Where were they all coming from? When he killed one, another took its place almost immediately.

He was starting to get tired and it showed, his swings getting slower and less effective. One of the things took advantage of this and clung to his back whilst he dealt with another. He could feel its talons trying to dig through the carapace, to no avail, but he couldn’t reach it either.

“Gah! Get off!”

The HEV hummed loudly, reacting to the jabs and an electronic pulse sent the crab flying off like it had been launched out of a cannon.

_'Power level: 65%'_

Gordon let out a nervous laugh, despite his situation, completely stupefied as he looked at the suit.

“That works!”

Given a small window to breathe, he saw a balcony with an open door that the lift was starting to pass. With the crabs still coming, he took it as an escape route and leapt over – bursting through the doorway with less finesse than he would have liked.

Unable to reach him, the crabs were stuck on the elevator. Some did attempt the jump and missed it, one clutching to the metal walkway before falling.

Gordon leant against the wall with one hand, breathless and sweating. Green blood coated the crowbar, dripping off of it and forming a small puddle by his feet. He could hear the elevator in the background, slowly coming to a stop at the bottom.

Taking in some more gulps of air, he glanced up and around the small stairwell he was in. There was another walkway at the bottom and he slowly made his way down the steps.

He was definitely deeper now. The cavernous room with its towering ceiling was made out of reinforced concrete. Large pipes ran along the breadth of the area, and just below them was a rail and crane system used for transporting the containers. One container in particular was still suspended over a flooded area at the bottom of a ramp. Boxes, crates and forklift trucks were dotted around the vast floor space.

Happy to stay above and out of the way for the moment, Gordon tore his bewildered gaze from the room and instead headed on through the door he was near to.

It was another control room, but larger than the last one. In stark contrast it was grey, dreary and miserable looking. The blood stains over the stone floor set the mood just perfectly.

Whilst unsettling, his interest was drawn to the orange panel upon the wall. It was an HEV charging port and it was actually working.

This was the first one he’d seen so far and he wasn’t about to pass up the chance to use it. Giving the room a quick check first, he moved over to it.

The charging port consisted of a thick rubber hose with a plug attached to it, hooked in place, a terminal and three large batteries, which glowed with a bright blue light, in a recessed area underneath. The terminal screen indicated that the charger was ready for use.

Gordon unhooked the plug and unfurled the hose. He slotted it into the suit’s port, making sure it was firmly secure then input his code on the keypad.

The following words came up on the screen; _G. Freeman: Authorised._

A loud hum came from the charger as it whirred into life, the lights of the batteries slowly starting to drain. The suit hummed along with it, gentle and soothing. Gordon leant against the top of the panel with his arm tiredly, resting his forehead on it.

He could feel fatigue catching up with him and also a dull pang of hunger. The realisation that he was still capable of having an appetite came as a surprise, but he’d been running empty for a while now and losing fluids.

_Just need to keep going a little longer..._

That’s what he kept telling himself. A little longer, a little further.

The charger bleeped, signalling it was finished.

_'Power level is one hundred percent.'_

Gordon’s reaction was slow, almost drifting off there and then. He pulled away, tugging the plug out and placing it on its hook. Even now, in a time of crisis, he acted like an associate and respected what he touched. He glanced at the terminal screen.

It said; _Have a very safe day!_

“Yeah, right...” He grumbled sourly.

On his way out he checked the weapon locker, finding two more clips of ammunition. He tucked them away, trying to remember how many shots he’d fired since his last reload, figuring it was around six. It was good to know the suit was keeping track as well, but knowing ahead of time would hopefully keep him out of trouble.

Standing on the walkway again, he peered at the floor below and saw a few straggling crabs wandering around. He used the rest of the clip on them, thinning their numbers and it also gave him some target practice. The small area to hit was tricky, but the parasites were easily downed in one blow each.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

The clip was discarded with a ringing clang and a fresh one took its place.

Safety having returned for the time being, Gordon kept the gun handy and secured the crowbar through the holster. He really needed to find a better way of carrying the thing. A quick search along the walkway found a ladder and he descended to the bottom floor.

He stayed alert and moved with light steps through the large space. Creaking and thudding came from the walls and overhead and leaks from the ceiling dripped into shallow puddles. The ambience was eerie and desolate, like the place hadn’t been touched in years even though it was normal just this morning.

Passing crates, cargo and tall shelving racks, he saw a tunnel leading ahead and the body of a guard slumped against one of its walls. Gordon, feeling a wave of dread, moved a little more hurriedly towards it.

To his relief it wasn’t Barney. The man had been severely torn into by several bites and lacerations from who knows what. His handgun, broken, still had a half-full clip inside. He took it with him, muttering a thank you for his contribution.

He was beginning to amass a small supply of ammo, which was comforting. With the increasing frequency of needing to fight for survival, he believed it was only a matter of time before he would be relying on it more than fighting up close and personal. Considering how slow he was becoming, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Following the wide tunnel with its low hanging, caged lights and pipes, it opened up into a chamber with a suspended walkway with another network of large pipes trailing around the right wall. Crates and a forklift had simply been abandoned, along with smaller box containers. On the forklift’s pallet were a couple of barrels with warning labels on them.

A flash of green light appeared in the middle of the mess. It stopped Gordon in his tracks, startling him with a gasp and he raised the gun, expecting another of those many-eyed beasts to get in his way.

Instead it was a hound. Spooked by its sudden change of environment, it defended itself by charging its ear-piercing shockwave. For lack of anywhere better to hide, Gordon knelt behind one of the sturdy containers and grimaced, bracing himself.

At its peak the shockwave hit everything around it, shunting the container Gordon was hiding behind. The barrels ruptured with the force and summarily exploded, causing major structural damage to the walkway. Metal groaned, concrete collapsed and the area around the impact crumbled away into the dark chasm below.

Pieces of barrel and wood landed on the container and around Gordon, along with specks of green blood.

Cautiously, he peeked over the top of his cover. The forklift, the hound and the rest of the debris were gone and an impassable gap was left in their wake.

Not wanting to investigate any closer in case more of the floor fell in, he looked to the pipes and noticed that he could, in theory, use them to circumvent the drop. They weren’t too dissimilar from the sorts of things he’d clambered on and over in the hazard course... Only there was no risk of breaking every bone in his body if he missed.

He tried to push that thought aside for a moment, switching out the handgun for the crowbar. If anything he could jab it into a pipe to save himself if necessary. Using the container he had hid behind as a boost, he hopped across and over the railing to the pipes behind it. A dull clang trembled through the pipe on landing.

Exhaling shakily, he clambered onto the next one, carefully treading over it until he couldn’t go any further. The other half of the crumbling walkway was near him, but the angle was far too awkward to attempt a jump. The only place he could go was ahead, on a pipe jutting out a few feet away.

Between that and him was a sheer drop.

_Jesus..._

Vertigo hit him hard just from a brief look and he forced his gaze forward. His knees threatened to buckle out of fear and he shook them loose as he stepped back for a run up.

_You can do this, Gordon. Just don’t look down._

Swallowing heavily, he took control of his breathing and shivering limbs, mentally judging the distance and readying himself. Every signal in his brain told him not to jump and he could feel his muscles trying to lock up so to stop him.

He broke free, a short jog becoming a full sprint. The chamber became a blur and the pipe fell away from his feet as he leapt.

A loud thrum echoed with his landing, his momentum still propelling him forward and into the waist-high pipe which became his next obstacle. He grabbed it, panting and refusing to look back at the drop and hauled himself on top. From there it was a simple matter of clambering and vaulting up to the pipe on the far wall, following it along carefully until he came to a ventilation shaft.

He’d never been so happy to see one, using the crowbar to pry the duct cover off and crawling in. He felt safe within the confines, especially knowing he wasn’t above a huge pit any longer.

Gordon used this time to calm down again, concentrating on where he was going as the shaft abruptly turned this way and that. He wasn’t used to this much stress, his body and mind thrust into terror repeatedly with little relent. Not knowing where he was, completely lost, wasn’t helping either.

He kicked the vent cover off, slipping through the opening and landing in a crouch. A small room with a maintenance access hatch and a ladder greeted him. For the moment he left the hatch alone and decided to see what his other options were, opening the door.

Now he was on the other side of the collapsed walkway, which was a great relief. With that horrible event behind him, he followed the corridor around and began to slow down when he realised there was no more floor left to walk on.

The whole bridge had fallen through, the railings torn and bent and the walkway itself dipping at a dangerous angle. Chunks of ceiling had come loose, no doubt hitting the bridge and destroying it. He had no way of getting across.

From what he could make out, this place looked like a water treatment plant. A wide canal cut the massive space in half lengthways. Arched ceilings on either side of the bridge domed over the platforms forming the perimeter. Hanging lights, some working and some not, gently squeaked and swayed as rumbles from above periodically disturbed them, bathing the area in a dull orange glow.

The murky water was full of debris, crates, barrels and junk, bobbing around or being pushed to the sides of the platforms. A stale dampness permeated the air, along with the faint smell of sewage. It was quite unpleasant.

Unsurprisingly, hanging tongues spread throughout the low and high ceiling in small groups, some above him and some below him. They looked like fishing lines, skimming the surface of the water and much like fishermen themselves, remained patient.

Gordon sighed. More water, potentially toxic as well as filthy.

How he was going to make it to the other side of the bridge from here, he didn’t know. There was no obvious path. He had a way down and that was a start.

About to turn back to the small room, he heard a loud, droning howl that echoed around the expanse. He tensed, looking across to the other side of the canal and saw a group of crabs trying to flee from a large animal.

It ran on two short muscular legs and consisted of a bulky thorax with a long, tapered tail. He couldn’t see much detail from this distance but its skin was a sandy brown and decorated with dark, spotted markings similar to a snake or frog. What he definitely could make out was the striking, bright red tentacles making up its ‘head’, undoubtedly covering its maw.

At a guess, the creature would probably reach his waist, give or take a foot. It was also very aggressive, shown by how it hunted each of the fleeing crabs and engulfed them in its tentacles, eating them alive or flicking them into the walls with its tail. As he studied its behaviour, it reminded him of a charging bull with a squid for a face.

It made short work of the crabs, grunting like a territorial boar whilst rooting amongst the debris to check if any got away. In the midst of doing this it appeared to notice him, tentacles rising in his direction and showing bloodied sharp teeth.

Gordon wasn’t worried. It couldn’t get him from there.

At least that’s what he thought.

The beast huffed and sounded like it was trying to vomit, before spitting a bright green substance from its mouth. The spray hit the floor, the ceiling and almost Gordon – who yelped and moved out of the way – sizzling on whatever material it met. It smelt foul to begin with, but the fumes were like noxious gas, making him cough.

' _Warning! Hazardous chemical detected!'_

Eyes watering, he went into retreat, trying to shift the acidic burning in his throat.

Another glob splattered into the corridor, some droplets landing on his forearm. They bubbled on the surface of the plating, but couldn’t penetrate it. He quickly flicked them away, coughing hoarsely and backing off.

 _That_ was going to be a big problem.

Now the beast knew he was here, there was little opportunity for him to shoot it from his perch. The floor was covered in bile, eating away at the surface of the concrete. The best thing for him to do now was to find another angle to kill it from, before it turned the whole area into a place he couldn’t breathe in.

Wheezing faintly, Gordon walked back to the small room with the maintenance ladder, carefully climbing down it. He ended up in another small area, with a door no doubt leading out to the water. Preparing himself, he switched to the handgun and gingerly opened the door, peeking through the gap.

The beast had gone back to eating its prey, which he could just see amongst boxes and barrels. His keen eye noticed these barrels were flammable, like the others previously.

If he could get close enough for a clear shot, he could finish it quickly without needing to expend much ammunition. So long as that ... Stuff didn’t touch his face, he should be fine. The suit protected everywhere else.

_Just another push, Gordon. Come on. You can rest soon; you just need to keep going._

It might have been an empty promise, but the reward of rest was what made him continue. The HEV was starting to feel heavy for the first time even with its servos assisting his movement and he was increasingly putting himself at risk with the mounting fatigue.

He made a break for it.

The creature perked up, grunting and it turned towards the noise. It spat more of its bile across the canal, hitting spots of floor and forcing Gordon to dodge around them. He ducked and used crates and rubble to take the hits for him, the sound of the materials slowly dissolving fizzing in his ears. Closing his eyes for a moment, panting, he waited. More fluid splattered over the crates and hit the back wall. Holding his breath from the fumes, eyes stinging, he darted out again and took shots as he ran.

Two hit the floor and one hit the wall next to the barrel. Snorting in alarm, the creature looked away from him and to the bullet impacts.

Seizing his chance, Gordon took aim and fired at the barrel from a stationary position, hitting the barrel twice. One penetrated the barrel, causing the fluid to leak, the other sparked it.

It never saw it coming.

Flames burst outward as the barrel exploded, sending shrapnel all over the platform. Not only was the creature hit by the shards of metal, it was also set alight. Its agonised cries echoed as it ran around in panic, bashing into more barrels and setting them alight too.

The resulting explosion made Gordon duck underneath stacks of containers. Pieces of singed flesh, metal, wood and debris flew across the river and into it. A heavy, sour, burning smell lingered in the air. Small flames and scorch marks circled around the location his enemy once was.

When everything stopped falling and the ringing in his ears stopped, Gordon stood and observed his handiwork.

He broke into a series of coughs, covering his mouth, his throat still burning from whatever he’d breathed in before. It was irritating and making it difficult to swallow. Unfortunately the only water to drink around here would probably make him sick.

_If I start coughing up a lung I’m in big trouble... Well, bigger._

The cough wasn’t the only bad news. There was nowhere for him to go. He couldn’t get to the other side and the platforms didn’t reach all the way around. Reluctantly, he looked to the grey sludge.

Whoever was watching over him during all of this had a really cruel sense of humour.

He approached the railing and tried to look either way for an opening. There appeared to be a small, lit tunnel at the left side. As much as he hated it, he was once again given the short straw.

Putting the handgun away and taking the crowbar instead, he vaulted over the railing and held it whilst lowering himself towards the water. When he couldn’t go any further, he let himself drop – leaning back to try and avoid getting much on his face.

It smelt horrible. Shuddering, he gently swam through the muck-coloured liquid and into the tunnel, which took him to a small chamber with a ladder. He couldn’t get out of there quick enough.

At this point he had given up on being dry. The suit’s regulators kept him warm but that wasn’t going to do much for the rancid odour lingering on it.

Thoroughly miserable, Gordon walked through the area he ended up in, not finding much except a half-eaten scientist he only spared a quick glance at and a door. He moved on through, now on the other side of the canal. The acrid smell was stronger now and he held his breath whilst jogging through the scorched zone with little left behind, wanting to prevent another coughing fit. Another door waited for him and he headed on through, closing it behind him in the hopes of finding fresher air.

Finally there was some reprieve. Winding, empty hallways with a linear path and a ladder going up made him feel like he was actually getting somewhere. This would no doubt get him to the other side, which he originally worried was impossible. It was a roundabout way of getting there, but so was this whole damn journey. When he asked to go up he was offered down instead.

He opened the next door and his wish was granted... But not in the way he hoped.

Footsteps rang on the metal balcony as he slowly walked forward to the railing, eyes wide.

He’d found the rest of the cargo delivery system; a complex network of rails were suspended throughout the concrete silo, rising, falling and turning every which way and leading into closed doors with numbers on them. Large containers hung by crane hooks throughout the tracks, now stationary with the whole system shut down.

Gordon had never realised just how vast this all was, or what amount of work it took to keep a facility of this size running like clockwork. He’d taken all of his meals, his toiletries, supplies – everything – for granted. He never gave a thought for where it had all come from. Would anybody?

“Wow...”

It was impressive for certain. He tore himself away from his curious staring and towards the ladder nearby, climbing up to the next balcony.

Higher up, he got a better view of the trail of containers and their destinations, whistling lowly. The large control room took up most of the level, which would have originally housed a team to man this monster of logistics. It was now empty.

Gordon peered through the glass, unable to see anyone or much of anything. A single working light flickered, revealing splatters of blood and gore for a few seconds at a time. The door was also locked, buzzing at him when he tried to enter. Biting his lip, he moved to the door at the end of the balcony and tried to open it. Locked also.

“Crap... Now what?”

He looked around the silo. There was another balcony on the far right wall but no way to reach it. His eyes followed the rail next to him, which led down at a steep angle and deeper into the system below, where the containers were coming from.

The only way to reach it was via those same containers suspended in a line, on that very rail showing him where to go. They made an evenly spaced path.

Terror rattled Gordon as his mind put it together and he quickly shook his head.

“N-no... No, no. No! No way! This is crazy!”

It had to be a thirty to forty foot drop. If he fell he’d be paste. The pipe jump was bad enough but this was on a whole other level.

Gordon rubbed at his forehead with his fingers, trying to calm himself. His heart hammered in his chest and he was already shaking before he’d even started. He had nothing else to work with, no other way to go. It was this or nothing... And no one was going to find him down here if he stayed.

_It’s just like the hazard course. Just like it. I have to do it._

He felt sick, moving along the balcony slowly towards the nearest container. Some planks of wood and a few cinder blocks had been left on a metal crate and he arranged them carefully to make a semi-sturdy walkway to get him across. From there he’d be relying on his own legs, which were stiffening the longer he hesitated.

Clambering up onto the crate, he finally got a sense of just how high up everything was. He avoided looking directly down, keeping his eyes on his destination and nothing more.

_I must be nuts..._

He took a step back and then launched himself off the planks towards the container, landing between the chains locked around it. It tilted a little with his weight and he clung to the crane for dear life.

Eyes closed, he adjusted his glasses and made sure they weren’t about to fall off, then looked to the next platform. He worried that if he stayed still for too long he’d lose his nerve. He couldn’t afford to on top of one of these. Adjusting his footing, he turned to it and stepped over the chains, then hopped.

“Ngh!”

He made it, clinging to the crane once more. The container swayed with him gently which didn’t help with his nausea, but he used it to help with his next jump. He leapt over to the third container, making it easily and clutched the crane for stability, then pushed himself to the fourth.

That looked to have been the easy bit. From here he could see the containers were further apart and it would require more than a short hop to make it. If he misjudged the jump he would either miss or overshoot it entirely. There was no coming back from this.

Swallowing heavily and readying himself, he forced his shaking hand to release the crane and took a step back. The container tilted faintly.

He ran, feeling the floor move with him as his weight altered its balance. Waiting until the last moment, he kicked off the box and soared over nothing.

For Gordon it felt like minutes, legs moving in slow motion as they cut through the air under him. He held his breath, chest tightening. Gravity pulled him down and as he descended, his legs bent and braced for impact.

In just a few seconds it was over. He landed on the container with a resounding thud – metal against metal – and clutched the crane as it moved with him, the chains rattling.

“Agh! God!”

That was awful and he still wasn’t finished. He could see the bay entrance and the containers before it.

_Just two more – you can do this, Gordon. You aren’t winning the decathlon for nothing._

Giving himself a little encouragement, he took a few sharp breaths and stepped back. His legs were starting to burn a little but the suit was supporting them, strengthening them. He surged forward and launched off the edge, landing a little off centre but still in reach of the crane.

Panting heavily, waiting for the container to stop swaying, Gordon glanced at the last one. It was even further away. He was going to need all he had and then some to make the jump. If he was ever going to see Barney, Dr. Kleiner and Eli again, he _had_ to make it.

_I don’t want to die here..._

He shook that thought out of his head quickly, silencing the frightened voice.

“Focus.” He whispered.

Altering the grip of the crowbar in his hand, he prepared himself. The container settled at last.

One last jump.

Gordon found his balance and edged back as far as he dared, one foot in front of the other. He needed as much speed as possible to propel him and although it was a lot to expect, managing a sprint on such a small space, that was what he intended to do.

Breathing in deeply, he darted forwards and sprung into the fastest run he could muster in the shortest time possible. If he had regrets it was too late to think about them, he reached the end of the container in seconds.

He pushed himself off with his front foot and flew – literally – over the yawning chasm. It was a weightless moment that was spectacular and terrifying all at once, air rushing past him. His legs danced on nothing, arms cutting through resistance and in the time it took for him to perform this feat, only seconds had gone by.

The container got closer and closer, his altitude lowering and it looked like he had a good angle on it at first. His eyes caught the drop and he looked past his boots to the hard ground some thirty foot below. Fear gripped him.

It was only made worse when he checked the container.

He wasn’t going to land _on_ it. He was going _into_ it.

Time sped up again and he slammed into the edge of the container chest first. The suit took the brunt of the impact, energy dispersing throughout the carapace plates and cushioning him, but it still knocked the wind out of his lungs.

Coughing and stunned, Gordon felt the world shift. The container tilted backwards and he began to slip. He snapped out of it, rapidly clawing with one hand and kicking his legs to try and save himself. The crowbar created sparks as it scratched against metal, unable to find grip.

“Nn! N-no, no!”

He slid faster, the suit’s weight pulling him down. His only hope was the chains attached to the crane and he swung the crowbar at the one nearest. The crowbar’s curve hooked on it and saved him just as he ran out of surface area. He hung by one hand, legs dangling over nothing.

“AHHH!”

His voice echoed, bouncing off the walls. Kicking furiously to try and give himself some leverage, he hauled his body up using the crowbar and grabbed the chain with his other hand. Absolutely petrified and gasping for breath, he eased himself onto the container slowly so it levelled out then crawled over the edge. He clung to the crane, closing his eyes.

He was a trembling wreck.

Despite that last hiccup, he had made it.

_I never... Ever... For as long as I live and breathe, want to do that again..._

After having some time to calm down, Gordon stiffly stood and eased his way off the container, landing in the bay behind and near a stairwell. It took some convincing to keep his legs moving, quite hampered by his brush with death for the umpteenth time.

He was sceptical when he found a ladder heading up, but ascended it anyway. It was a surprise to find that the next door took him to the rest of the walkway on the other side of the filth-ridden canal.

That was one hell of a detour.

Relieved with the idea that he could leave this awful place behind, he moved down the corridor, following it until it took him to a large warehouse. It must have been where some of the suspended containers were delivered to, judging by the empty rail and one container near the closed door. He’d be glad to never see one again.

Past the racks, crates and even more boxes, there was a service elevator with its doors open; the cab brightly lit up.

Gordon, although understandably nervous around elevators, was so excited about the idea of finding a way back up after his unexpected downfall that he was running to it without a second thought.

Flashes of green light formed behind him, the sounds of squealing hounds piercing his ears. He ignored them, even as he heard them coming, focused entirely on escape.

He leapt into the cab and slammed the button with his fist – the doors closing just as the hounds got close.

The elevator hummed gently, beginning to rise. No creaks, no groans, no short circuiting.

He was free.

Gordon leant against the wall of the cab, utterly exhausted. If he trusted the metal box enough not to kill him, he would have happily stayed in there to rest. However, experience told him otherwise. He’d find somewhere soon. He had to, before he passed out. He was so thirsty, his throat still sore and the hunger pains were getting worse. 

Wherever he was going now, within this living hell, it had to be a lot better than where he’d been.

Right?


	3. Office Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon arrives at the overrun administration block and is forced to fight his way through it to help a group of survivors find shelter, whilst trying not to become a victim himself.

The elevator came to a halt, its doors opening with a bleep.

Opening his eyes, Dr. Freeman looked out into the darkened lobby, its floor a sea of grey and white checkered tiles. The large halogen lights in the ceiling were all off except for one above the garish red metal double door on his right. Some of the cream panels above had come loose, now scattered in the middle of the floor and stained with blood – the corpse of a scientist partially hanging out of the hole.

Gordon knew just by the drab interior that he was in some sort of office, possibly the administration block, where all their paperwork was sent to and came from. He never expected to appreciate seeing such a dull environment again, but this was much more preferable to halls of grey, soulless stone, filthy water, pits and flooded pipes.

He stepped out of the elevator and the doors slid shut behind him, sparking the beginning of another aimless struggle. The corpse was suddenly dragged out of sight by an unseen entity, disappearing into the dark recesses of the ceiling.

That was already a bad omen.

Mildly alarmed, Gordon waited. He heard something moving but it was faint. Whatever it was it wasn’t about to show itself.

A buzz of electricity from a hanging cable a few feet away caught his attention instead. It had fallen through behind a broken light, landing in a puddle that covered the width of the hall. There was no way he was getting across that, but the crabs on the other side couldn’t either.

It didn’t deter them from trying. They jumped at him but the moment they got close erratic bolts struck them with so much lethal voltage that it made them explode into smoking chunks. The air conditioning unit on the wall nearby was struck in the process, detonating the machine and blasting a hole through the wall. 

Gordon shielded his face from flying rubble, pieces of concrete and shards of metal ringing off the suit with enough force to push him back. He staggered, just about managing to stay upright.

Ears ringing, he barely heard the sound of the doors being unlocked and opening behind him. He turned to meet them, raising the crowbar defensively.

A scientist in a bloodied lab coat blinked at him and a guard stood beside them, aiming their handgun in his direction. They shouted something, but their voices were muffled and droning. He attempted to put his hands up and they felt like they were made of lead.

His vision blurred, just catching their concerned expressions as the world tilted to one side and he fell to the floor in a heap.

Everything went dark.

“Gordon...”

His eyes opened, blinking rapidly. He thought he heard someone calling his name, someone he knew.

“Gordon!”

The voice came again, echoing around him as though he were in a cave. He couldn’t see anything, just impenetrable walls of black. Light shone down from above with no visible source, creating a spotlight around the area he rested in.

He got to his feet, adjusting his glasses and noticing his bare hands. Inspecting himself further, he discovered that he was back in his lab uniform, complete with his I.D badge.

_Wha...? Where am I?_

“Gordon! Where are you?!”

That was Barney’s voice. Gordon turned around, trying to see past the column of light and into the dark fog. There was nothing there.

“Barney...?” He called out, unnerved.

“Gordon! I need – I need help, please!”

He sounded like he was in distress or pain. Struck with rising concern, Gordon ran forward into the dark, trying to find where his voice was coming from. The column of light followed him wherever he went, only lighting up a small space at a time.

“Where are you?! Talk to me!”

“I ... I don’t know! I can’t see anything!”

Fear was in his voice and it only pushed Gordon to move faster. He had no sense of direction; he could have been going in circles. There was nothing to find, no one was with him. He was all alone.

This painstaking torture dragged on and on, the calls of his friend’s voice begging for help coming from all over. His footsteps echoed into nothingness, panic starting to set in as his mind conjured up horrible imagery of Barney suffering in terrible ways.

When all felt lost, when Gordon was on the verge of tears out of grief and guilt, another column of light appeared ahead of him.

Barney stood in it, his back turned and head lowered, slumped as if exhausted.

Gasping, Gordon raced over and entered the lit space. He wrapped his arms around the other man, not only out of compassion and relief, but out of fear that he would disappear if he let go and leave him alone once more. Barney didn’t respond to his touch, like he was wooden.

“Barney, thank God... Are you alright?” He asked through his breathlessness.

“Gordon... I...”

His friend began to turn and Gordon loosened his hold on him, albeit hesitantly, raising his head to meet his gaze.

He froze, eyes widening and staring in horror.

Clawed hands gripped his arms tightly, his fear preventing him from reacting to the pain he felt. He was face to face with the crab’s mandibles and fangs; Barney’s face obscured and his visage warped beyond recognition.

Snarling voraciously, he fell on him and Gordon screamed in both terror and agony as he felt claws and teeth tear flesh from bone.

Gordon bolted upright in a cold sweat, yelling and spooking the scientist that had been trying to wake him. Still in a panicked state, reeling from the nightmare, he kicked into the couch he had been laying on and scurried into its corner, away from the people crowding him.

“Woah, woah! Easy, kid – easy! You were dreaming!” The guard reassured, standing nearby.

The scientist, holding their chest from their own scare, carefully gave him some space and cleared his throat.

“W-well, you’re awake now, at any rate... Please, Dr. Freeman, take some deep breaths and relax. You’re safe.”

Trying to slow his unsteady breathing, Gordon found himself in a small lounge area behind the two red doors he collapsed next to, now barricaded with furniture. He must have passed out or fainted. His heartbeat drummed in his ears, body shaking as he took in his surroundings.

The guard snapped his fingers at Gordon, getting his attention.

“Hey, look at me. Chill, okay? I don’t know what you were dreaming about – probably better I don’t – but you were thrashing something fierce. Almost broke my nose.”

“Yes, well, I _did_ try to warn you that the HEV suit is quite sturdy.”

“Sturdy? Hell, it was like being hit with a hammer.” The guard grumbled.

Gordon looked apologetic, seeing the bruising and swelling around the bridge of the man’s nose. That had to have hurt.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Could be worse, I suppose. I’m guessing by the state of you, you’ve been running around in the canals.”

“Yeah... Did you come from there?”

“Some of us. The rest are locals.” He thumbed across the room, indicating a few more scientists huddled together around a TV.

“The situation is dire, Dr. Freeman, as you’ve no doubt seen for yourself. We’re waiting for the emergency broadcast to go out before we plan our next move.”

“It’s been tense but the things around here are still trying to figure out how to get to us. There are more of my friends out there, as well as theirs. My idea was to gather everyone and hole up in the cafeteria.”

“Sounds like a good plan, but I won’t be staying.”

“What? Why?”

“I promised that I’d make it to the surface. That’s what I intend to do.”

The guard and the scientist glanced at each other then back at Gordon. They appeared sceptical at best.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Tell you what, Freeman, help me herd these guys to the cafeteria and save everyone we can along the way and I’ll put you on the right track. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Great. I’m Nick. Nick Lewis. This here is Dr. Fisher and the others might introduce themselves to you when they’ve calmed down a bit. They’ve had it kinda rough.”

Gordon looked over to the three. A woman and two men looked to be suffering from shock, quiet and in despair. The general feeling in the lounge was one of low morale and hopelessness. For now he was going to leave them be, focusing on the task at hand and looking back up to Lewis.

He was well built and tall, with tanned skin from the desert sun. His hair was obscured by his helmet but his light stubble indicated that he might have been blonde. A hint of lethargy was in his grey-blue eyes and there was little doubt in Gordon’s mind that he had seen some horrible things.

Dr. Fisher on the other hand was a middle-aged, pale man with a trimmed beard, glasses and greying cropped hair. Though there was a sharp mind behind his hazel gaze he was also full of anxiety and struggled to stay still.

“Has anyone else come through here besides me?”

“No, I was surprised the elevator was still working. Looking for somebody?”

“One of your colleagues, actually. Calhoun.”

“ _Calhoun_? You and me both – I still have a score to settle with him after he swindled me out of a game of blackjack last week, cheating bastard. He better stay alive so I can wring his damn neck.”

Gordon couldn’t help but smirk.

_And you said I was always knee-deep in trouble..._

“What I think Mr. Lewis is saying is no, we haven’t seen your friend. I’m sorry.”

“Bah. The guy’s an expert at avoiding trouble, I’m sure he’s fine. Anyway, you might as well make yourself at home for a while, Freeman. Take a load off – you look like you need it. I can’t have you fainting again in the middle of a gunfight.”

“There are a couple of vending machines if you’re –“

Dr. Fisher paused as Gordon looked back and then bounded off the couch to the vending machines nearby. They had already been smashed open, drinks and snacks available and waiting. Craving hydration and food, he grabbed as much as he could carry and returned to his spot.

“... I suppose that answers that question.”

Lewis snickered and walked away to check on the other scientists, taking Dr. Fisher with him so Gordon could refuel in peace.

He didn’t go _too_ overboard in case he threw up again, but it was enough to make the hunger pains stop and the soreness in his throat go away. Tasting clean, fresh water for the first time in ages was absolute bliss. Not wanting to touch anything directly with his gloves, considering what he’d been doing all this time, most of the snacks weren’t suitable but the energy bars were both practical and easy to eat, if a little bland.

Comfortable, warm and safe for the time being, Gordon promptly fell into a mercifully dreamless nap on the couch.

A light shake brought him out of his peace and he blinked at Lewis.

“We’re up, Freeman. Thanks for not hitting me this time.” He smirked.

Gordon sat up and pulled off his glasses momentarily to rub at his eyes, then stood. The crowbar had been left on the coffee table next to him and he grabbed it on his way to follow Lewis.

The TV was alive with a rainbow of colour and droning, the EAS (Emergency Alert System) transmitting. He remained quiet, watching it and listening with the rest of the group.

A long beep blared before a male voice spoke.

_“The following message is transmitted at the request of local authorities... At 9:47 AM mountain time, a disaster of unknown type occurred at the Black Mesa Research Facility, causing significant damage and failure to various power and communication systems in the surrounding areas. An immediate evacuation order has been issued for all residents within a 75 mile radius of the facility and on-site military has been dispatched to provide assistance.”_

“The military are coming...?” One of the other scientists muttered.

_“Make sure to bring an emergency supply of food, water, clothing, first-aid kit, flashlights with extra batteries and battery powered radios. Follow local evacuation routes which have been marked by local authorities and only use one vehicle. Do not return to the warning area until the all-clear has been given. If you are not in the evacuation zone, stay where you are. If you are within the evacuation area and have no transportation, locate your nearest police department or military officer. Do not use telephones or cell phones except in the case of emergencies. Stay tuned to local news media outlets for further details and information on this situation.”_

The announcement ended with a drone and the TV fell silent once more. Gordon glanced between the others and the mood in the room was very hard to judge. It was a mixture of relief and fear.

His own feelings were uncertainty and dread; how long would it take for the military to get to the facility? Could they survive until they were rescued? The sheer scale of the disaster was finally sinking in and the heavy weight of guilt surfaced again.

“Seventy-five miles? That’s almost the whole desert, what is going on out there?” The only woman of the group, with her black hair tied in a bun, asked nervously.

“Isn’t it obvious? They don’t want news of this to get out. They don’t want anyone to know what we’ve been doing down here.” The thin, dark-haired man with an irritable disposition spat.

“B-but that means they’re coming to rescue us, right? The military will come and save us!” The third scientist with a head of curly brown locks, the most timid of the lot, tried to sound hopeful.

“Mr. Lewis...? What should we do? If we stay here, they’ll surely find us.” Dr. Fisher asked.

“The monsters could find us, too! We can’t just sit and wait, I want to get out of here!”

Lewis was worryingly quiet and Gordon looked at him. His face was grey. The announcement served as a harsh reality check for all of them, revealing just how real the situation was. None of them knew what to do and piling the decision on Lewis wasn’t helping an already stressed man. 

Gordon knew one of the directives the security force had to follow in an emergency due to Barney and it was one of the few things he did take seriously, so much so that he called it an oath rather than an order. Their lives were second priority; the safety of science personnel and securing the facility came first. Perhaps if he hadn’t been wearing the HEV, Barney would have dragged him out by force. In hindsight he wished he had.

Now with the military coming, was the surface as safe as once assumed?

“Lewis?” Gordon asked, placing a hand on his arm gently.

One look from Lewis and Gordon could tell he was scared stiff.

“Fine! If the damned security guard can’t help us, we’ll just have to help ourselves! I am not staying in this place to die!”

The impatient scientist began to storm off, looking back to the stunned group.

“If you all want to get yourselves killed, be my guests, but I’m leaving!”

He strode to the doors and Dr. Fisher began to follow after him in the hopes of making him reconsider.

The panels in the ceiling above the scientist collapsed as a long, sticky tongue broke through them, flicking them aside. In the time it took for the man to realise what was happening and scream, the appendage wrapped around his neck and dragged him up. The last sight of him was his kicking legs vanishing into the hole.

Screams filled the room and Gordon yanked Dr. Fisher back by his collar just as more panels fell overhead. Another tongue lashed back and forth, searching for prey.

“HOLY SHIT!” Lewis cried, tugging his handgun free from its holster.

Gordon pulled Dr. Fisher away carefully, ushering him further inside the small area they were now trapped in. Lewis darted forward to try and help the other scientist and the crowbar rose to block his path.

“What are you –“

Muffled noises came from the spot where the scientist disappeared, followed by the sound of crunching bones and squelching of flesh. It was too late. He was gone. A lingering, gurgling sound of rapid digestion shook the group into silence. One rejected shoe landed on the floor and the tongue descended once again in wait.

It was something Gordon wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

The female scientist covered her mouth with a trembling hand, bursting into tears and clinging to her colleague, who tried to be supportive but was just as terrified. Dr. Fisher stared at the now very unsafe sanctuary, swallowing dryly and then looked up to Gordon.

“Thank you, Dr. Freeman. You... You saved my life...”

Gordon gave the man a small nod. He was shivering, the colour drained from his face.

Lewis lit a cigarette with a shaking hand, taking some drags of it to try and calm himself down.

“Sh-shit... Oh, shit... He – it ...”

“I suppose it goes without saying that we can’t stay here any longer... Not unless we plan to be the next course, anyway.” Dr. Fisher mused, looking between the two men.

“The – the cafeteria could be a dead end, too, doc... We can’t risk taking everyone at once and I can’t leave you here, either.”

“I’ll go.”

The two blinked, looking at Gordon who turned to face them.

“By yourself?”

“I’ve survived alone so far. I’ll scout out what I can; clear the way as much as possible and then I’ll come back for you.”

“You’re a brave young man, Dr. Freeman, but just remember that HEV suit doesn’t make you invincible. We still don’t know the extent of the damage here, or what lurks in it. I advise extreme caution.”

“Noted, Dr. Fisher.”

“Don’t die out there, Freeman.”

Gordon gave them a thumbs up and a fleeting smile, before pulling the handgun free from its holster and slipping the crowbar inside. He aimed up to the ceiling and fired three times into the mouth closest, trying to blank out the whimpers and cries of the two remaining scientists.

As it spat out its innards, garnering a mixture of fascination and repulsion, he carefully drew closer to the one who had recently eaten. He shot that one, too, avenging its victim and preventing it from devouring anybody else. Pieces of bone, picked clean and covered in bile, fell onto the carpet. Someone threw up in the background but he didn’t check to see who it was.

After some relocation of the furniture, he pulled the door open and stepped out into the familiar corridor he had collapsed in.

The hole in the wall invited him to investigate. 

Tugging the remains of the destroyed air conditioning unit aside, Gordon crawled into the ventilation duct behind it and soon ended up in a small maintenance closet, housing circuit breakers for the floor. If the rest were going to escape that electrified puddle had to go, even if it was keeping the crabs away from their refuge.

He flicked the switches off one by one, unsure which did what. A startled yelp from someone in the lounge echoed through the vent, confirming he must have found what he’d been looking for. That was his hope anyway.

Crawling back out into the hall, the cable was no longer buzzing; the lounge and the hall itself were now dark. With the water safe to walk through, Gordon headed down the hall and to a closed door with a window at the end. The door wouldn’t budge, but a few hard knocks with the crowbar were enough to shatter the window and he vaulted through.

Lit only by emergency lighting, he found what must have been the lobby and reception. A large office, seen through a window, was in front of him and more water ran over the floor on his right. His gaze followed it to the smashed open window nearby and the flooded room on the other side.

His focus was interrupted by the sound of clicking and a crab springing to the floor. Turning sharply, he aimed the handgun at it and fired twice. Another sprang up onto the desk, knocking one of the computer monitors off, but it wasn’t expecting him to be ready. It landed on the floor lifelessly after a single shot.

He wasn’t doing too badly at this. So long as he didn’t panic and kept his distance, most of his shots landed on target.

For now, Gordon left the flooded room alone and started to explore the lobby. There wasn’t much to look at in the dim red glow; calendars, schedule boards on the walls and a lonely, withered plant. His search continued through the wide hallways, not willing to leave any place unchecked in case there were stragglers waiting for rescue.

Unfortunately, his first find was one of the shambling corpses, which turned to look at him. Snarling, it moved forwards, claws reaching. He put it down with three bullets, two in the head, and one near the heart. No sooner as it fell, he met another around the corner. It took him by surprise, forcing him to back up into the wall and fire a little more abruptly. Four more shots rang out, sending it to the floor.

Letting out a short breath, he glanced around. A wide opening running along the right wall showed a communal area filled with desks and computers; a crab-headed body slumped on the floor at its edge. On the left side were closed, private offices with their windows obscured by blinds. 

He decided to take advantage of the unmoving creature, striding forward and tugging the crowbar loose. It noticed him a little too late, just rising when the wedge dug into its skull with a wet crack.

Gordon didn’t look, trying to blank out the stomach-knotting noises and prying the crowbar free. No matter how many he killed, it never felt any easier to do.

With nothing else worth his attention, he continued on his way and eventually reached what looked to be a fire exit. It took him out of the drab administration decor and back into concrete surroundings.

He was standing high up on a platform with a walkway in front, leading to a fenced off area. On the level below were huge, thick metal doors that sealed the entrance to a round tunnel. The tunnel networks were used for evacuation, logistics and travel between the different sectors, but it didn’t look like there was a way to get inside this particular one.

Pushing his disappointment aside, he looked to the fenced off area and began to walk across the bridge. He slowed when a shape moved on the other side of the chain link.

It was a guard!

“Oh, hey! Over here!”

Gordon, relieved, jogged over to him. He was beginning to fear that everyone else had been killed in the meantime.

The nervous-looking guard looked just as relieved to see him, raising a hand.

“Man, I’m glad to see someone’s still alive out there – look, I need your help. One of these ... Things latched onto my friend’s head and I can’t get the damn thing off.”

Gordon had scarcely taken in what had been said when a moan came from the tunnel behind the guard. A shambling shape clawed its way along the wall. The man perked up and stepped back to meet his friend, not knowing it was too late for them.

“Wait!”

“Hey, don’t worry! Someone’s coming to help you get that –“

He cut himself off with a scream, the still decomposing monster swinging its claws towards him and catching his vest. As he went into retreat and fumbled with the handgun stuck in its holster, it lunged for his throat.

Three shots hit it in rapid succession and it fell to the floor in a heap faster than the bullet casings did.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

The guard panted and stumbled back, looking at his vest and seeing that it had saved him. A sizable gash was left in the material.

“Wh-what the hell... He was fine just – just now. I... Jesus Christ.”

Considerably shaken, the guard looked at Gordon as he reloaded his handgun in practiced automation, his expression grim.

“Thanks, I owe you one... Here, uh, let me get the door for you.”

He tugged the bolt loose, pulling the door open and looking back to the unmoving corpse of his recently deceased colleague. Gordon stepped inside and gave the guard a once over, the man’s watery blue eyes wide and slightly trembling fingers scratching at gingery stubble.

“I – I’m fine, doc. I’m fine. Did Lewis send you?”

“Yeah. He’s relocating to the cafeteria. It’s not safe anywhere else.”

“I think that close encounter just proved it. Shit. Look, we had some supplies in the back that we were holding onto, just in case. Come on.”

He guided Gordon through the tunnel and it curved into a small supply room filled with boxes, a couple of first aid kits on the table and a weapons locker behind more fencing.

“I’ll grab the kits. You might as well take Maxwell’s gun... It isn’t like he’ll need it anymore.”

Nodding, Gordon walked through the open door of the fenced off area and to the locker. Secured in wait was a SPAS-12; a powerful, pump-action shotgun. Not exactly a standard issue weapon, but he figured Maxwell had grabbed it when everything went south.

Gordon hesitated, somewhat intimidated by it. Securing the handgun back in its holster, he took the shotgun carefully with both hands, testing its weight. It should have been heavier, that much he knew, but the suit augmenting his strength didn’t let him feel it.

“You never held one before? With your shooting I figured you’d be a natural.”

“I’ve never held a _gun_ before until today.” He said, telling a little white lie.

“Seriously? Then you’re one hell of a lucky shot, doc. Come here, I’ll show you how to hold the thing, then we better get going.”

After a quick lesson in general shotgun usage and a few pointers, the two were heading back out again. Thankfully there was a strap for it, allowing him to secure it over his shoulder. With only twelve shells to spare, he planned on saving it for when he needed it most. He was just about comfortable using the handgun; he wasn’t sure how he’d manage firing something stronger just yet.

Although faintly amused at first to see the poor scientist struggle to carry everything, the guard retrieved the ammo pouch from Maxwell’s corpse and attached it snugly around Gordon’s left thigh. That made things a little more comfortable. Inventory management over, they got ready to leave.

“Alright, doc, I’ll stick with you but – uh – if you don’t mind, I think you should take point. You’re the one in the orange tank, after all.”

“Right... Stay close.”

“You got it, doc. Name’s Carter, by the way.” He nodded, readying his gun.

“Freeman.”

They stepped out of the fenced area, moving along the walkway to the other side. Gordon gave the tunnel a second glance, debating whether it was worth a trip down or not.

A green flash erupted on the platform they were going towards, one of the many-eyed beings appearing in its wake. It immediately raised its arms and summoned the green electrical arcs between its claws and arms, bellowing a war cry.

Not being given the time to think, Gordon raised the handgun and fired thrice. One hit its arm, one hit the opposite shoulder and the third hit its neck. Carter moved to Gordon’s side and delivered the final, critical blow to its head and it fell back; the energy fizzling out.

Exhaling sharply, Gordon lowered his aim. Carter let out a sigh of relief.

“Nice shooting, doc. You sure you haven’t had lessons before?”

Gordon didn’t need to think of an excuse; two more rifts broke through on the lower level, guttural cries joining them. He quickly shoved Carter back and dived out of the way – a bolt hitting the wall behind where they once were. The pair got into cover, using what they could to avoid being a target.

“Stay down, Carter!”

“I’m supposed to protect _you_ , remember!?”

Green light lit up the ceiling as another bolt flew just over Carter’s position, creating a thunderous crack. He yelped and lay on the floor.

“On second thought – you got a point!”

Leaning against a panel by the railings, Gordon cautiously peeked out and saw the two advancing, working as a team. They called orders to one another in their own tongue, scanning the platform with their many eyes. He quickly ducked back to avoid being seen.

He needed an opening, but what?

An abandoned toolbox had been left on top of a crate and he shuffled over to it, digging around for the largest, heaviest tool he could find. Carter watched, puzzled, but stayed quiet. Taking a wrench, he moved back to the panel and then tossed it to the far end of the platform so it made as much noise as possible. It rang against a pipe, creating an ungodly racket in the echoing space.

Alarmed, the two creatures turned away and rapidly fired their bolts at the area. Gordon looked to Carter and nodded.

The two rose from their hiding places and hailed down lead on the unsuspecting invaders, bullets tearing through their brown, mottled flesh. Cries of agony were swiftly silenced and they crumpled onto the concrete.

Not wanting to be caught out a second time, both men stayed alert and waited to see if reinforcements would arrive. A few tense moments passed until it was deemed safe enough to relax.

Carter slowly approached Gordon, glancing down at the two dead aliens.

“Smart idea, using that wrench. Dumb bastards didn’t stand a chance.”

“The offices could be filling up with them by now. I hope Lewis can hold out long enough.”

Gordon slid out the clip, checking his ammo. Ten bullets left.

“Don’t worry, doc. Lewis knows what he’s doing, one of the more experienced among us.”

_Not experienced with dealing with something like this though..._

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he nodded and stepped back into the red-lit hallways of the office complex. Carter kept an eye on what was behind them and Gordon focused on front.

To their surprise the previously cleared area remained that way, but there was an uneasy feeling in the air. Any moment those beings could materialise and they were prepared to kill on doing so. It was a baffling, surreal situation to be in – one that Gordon’s logical brain wanted to reject – but every encounter affirmed it. These things weren’t like the hounds, the crabs or the bullsquids. They were not animals, lost and confused, they were scouts, skirmishers and troops.

He was dreading what might come after, but with the military on their way it wasn’t going to be his fight for much longer. He would finally be free of the damn suit and these nightmarish experiences, get escorted to the surface, then find Barney and the others.

All he had to do was survive until then.

Soon enough they returned to the flooded room Gordon had left alone. A broken pipe in the ceiling was the source of the damage and whilst the water level wasn’t that high, sparking wires from a collapsed light danced on its surface. A ventilation duct was on the far wall and the office furniture made a semi-viable route towards it.

“Uh... You aren’t thinking of going in there, are you?”

“The duct could give me an idea of where to go next. You don’t have to come.”

Carter glanced into the room, then at Gordon, clearing his throat.

“Y-you know what? Maybe I should guard this area, just in case.”

“Alright. Keep an eye on the room ahead, that’s where Lewis and the others are. If they need help, go to them, I’ll manage.”

“You got it, doc. Just – uh – be careful, okay?”

Nodding, Gordon vaulted through the window and landed on the desk behind, carefully standing. Compared to pipes and containers, this wasn’t anywhere near as terrifying, but it was just as life threatening.

Taking a deep breath, he hopped to the next desk and landed on it. The furniture wobbled and creaked with his weight, but held. Wincing a little out of nerves, Gordon quickly hopped to the toppled bookcase, which was propped up at an angle thanks to the desk underneath it.

“God, I can’t look...” Carter muttered in the background.

He landed awkwardly, struggling to find his footing with the placement of the shelves. He slumped forwards into a crouch, the bookcase shifting with him.

If that wasn’t bad enough, talons clicked on the desk nearby. He looked up to see a crab springing in his direction and immediately ducked, pressing low into the shelves and using them to cover his head. The creature missed and landed in the water, screeching as it was fried.

“Woah! Hell yeah, that’s what you get for Maxwell you little bastard! I mean – uh – you okay?”

“F-fine...” Gordon responded quietly, a little shaken from the brief scare.

He slowly regained his composure, crawling onto the desk and standing again. This would have been better without Carter’s distracting commentary but it was nice not being alone for a change. As he took careful steps to the vent, he noticed the light switch and knelt to it, flicking it off.

The room was cast into darkness and the sparking ceased. An orb of light from the HEV lit up the space in front of him and he was free to continue without the worry of being electrocuted. If the others had to come this way, he’d made it safer.

“Nice going, doc. Uh, don’t take too long, okay?”

Slipping the handgun away and taking the crowbar instead, he clambered to the duct using a filing cabinet and pried at the cover. With a grunt, it came loose and he tossed it aside.

“I’ll try not to...” He muttered, crawling inside.

Rumbles and thuds followed him through the winding, narrow metal tunnel, which changed direction abruptly. It wasn’t the most comfortable crawl, especially with added bulk. A crab tried to take advantage of his struggling and it paid for it with a swing from the crowbar, crushing it against the side with a crunchy splat.

“Ugh...”

Crawling over the mess, much to his distaste, Gordon continued his journey to wherever the duct wanted to take him.

Or he would have, if it didn’t collapse.

He fell through the weak metal that gave way and the ceiling panels below it, crashing onto the floor below. Somehow, he managed to land on his feet.

Sighing with relief, surprised by his own reflexes, he noticed that he hadn’t gone too far and Carter was behind the reinforced glass window of the lobby. He unbolted and opened the double doors, the jumpy guard turning and aiming his gun.

“Oh... Shit, Freeman, you scared the crap out of me.”

He relaxed, jogging over to meet him.

“You alright? You look a little spooked.”

“Uh, unexpected drop, that’s all.”

“I’m figuring with that door locked, some of the others could be hiding that way. Let’s go find ‘em before the monsters do.”

Nodding in agreement, Gordon turned and led the way into the next corridor, now sparsely lit. Papers, furniture and blood smears created a chaotic scene, where no doubt people were trying to get away and escape.

Some more panels came through just ahead and two crabs launched at the both of them as soon as they touched the floor. Carter shot one in mid-air and the other was batted through the window of the office on Gordon’s left. If the hit hadn’t killed it, the landing and glass shards certainly did.

“Nice hit, Freeman! Maybe when this is over you can find a career in baseball instead?” Carter snickered.

It was hardly a joking matter, but considering he’d just lost his friend and this was probably his way of coping, Gordon didn’t lecture him; smirking faintly in response. The two looked around the area, finding little of interest, no one hiding and the doors were locked.

“So much for progress...” Carter huffed.

Gordon looked up to the hole in the ceiling that the crabs had come from; noticing the hatch leading to the ventilation area was now hanging down. He grabbed the rungs, climbing into the tight space overhead.

“Oh, right... Uh, don’t leave me for too long, please?”

“I’ll come back for you, just hang tight.”

Before he knew it, he was back inside another duct and dragging himself through its confines. He hoped it would lead to the other side of a locked door, so he could get Carter back with him. It was a strange sort of role reversal, suddenly protecting the very people he would normally be relying on – who had the training he lacked – but they didn’t expect someone to turn up wearing a HEV suit.

A rather terrible thought passed in his absent-mindedness.

_Would they care about you the same way if you didn’t?_

Gordon paused, paranoia trying to seep in. Would he be just as helpless as those scientists, assuming he somehow got here without? Assuming he hadn’t died already?

_It’ll be everyone for themselves, soon. People break under pressure. What if they find out that you were involved in all of this? None of the others are alive, as far as they know. You’d be the only one to blame._

Swallowing dryly, he hesitated going any further and glanced back over his shoulder.

_They’ll kill you, Gordon._

A scream coming from the end of the vent made him flinch and he was snapped out of his lapse. It wasn’t Carter’s voice from what he could tell. He crawled as fast as he could, wrenching the cover off with the crowbar.

He couldn’t see anything on his right – his vision blocked by two stacked containers. It looked to be another storage area, the stark environment returning again, composed of concrete and metal beams.

A scientist fled from the corridor before him, a group of crabs trying to catch them. Gordon was already clambering out when he ran into the room.

Something mechanical whirred into life and a laser tracked the man’s movements. He turned and yelled, then was cut off in a flurry of bullets. His hole-riddled corpse slumped to the floor.

Gordon tried to retreat back into the vent, but it was too late. His grip faltered and he landed on the floor in a rough crouch, hitting his palms and knees.

“Gh!”

The crabs scurried towards him, the laser picking them up and shots ending them just as quickly as the scientist. It then scanned the room, unable to get past the containers he was hiding by. With the threats eliminated, the machine fell silent.

Gordon looked up at the duct, which was now far too high for him to reach, then to the dead scientist on the floor. He grimaced, averting his gaze and shuffled gingerly along the container so to peer around its corner.

Attached to the ceiling on the far side of the room was a turret, its laser tracing over the area in a slow sweep. Rotors hummed as it swivelled around, searching for targets. The red dot caught his glasses and it stopped. He pulled back with a gasp and it fired a warning shot, hitting the floor near him and leaving a sizable hole.

He had no idea that they even had these sorts of systems. They must have been triggered in the incident, or someone activated them and never got to turn them back off. Whatever the case, they couldn’t tell friend from foe and he needed to find a way of shutting it down, lest he ended up the same way.

Taking a few breaths to calm himself, he looked again and saw a metal crate that was close enough for him to get to if he was fast. He rose to his feet and stayed low, darting out to it and ducking behind it.

The turret fired, sending a stream of bullets overhead and leaving a trail of pockmarks. Some pinged against the surface of the container, prompting Gordon to cover his head to shield himself. The laser scanned over his cover, searching, then returned to its cycle when it found nothing to shoot at.

He waited until it stopped, timidly lowering his arms. Now he had a barrier, he needed to get closer. From his look earlier he knew there were other crates and available cover, just not within reach. Shuffling, he tried to push the crate and it was a lot lighter than anticipated, sliding along the floor.

Nodding to himself, he had a plan.

Pressing his back against the metal surface, Gordon used his feet to help propel him and he slowly advanced along the room. The turret, sensing movement, fired upon the crate and rattled it, creating a deafening racket that made his head ache. The box’s integrity was beginning to falter with the impacts and so he went faster. It needed to last long enough for him to find another hiding place.

He felt the structure of the box collapse just as he reached one of the taller containers and he dived behind it. The turret continued to fire, reducing the casing to thin shards.

Crawling out of sight, Gordon hid in safety and caught his breath.

The bullets finally stopped flying, the turret’s spinning barrel slowing down. Seeing the laser sweep around the room again, Gordon chanced it and glanced out.

A hydraulic lift with a forklift truck on it was in the way of what appeared to be a circuit breaker behind some metal grating. Ducking away from the laser, he looked around for a switch of some sort and it just so happened to be on the wall to his right.

The only issue was that there was no cover.

If this was going to work, he had to time this perfectly.

Standing, he moved to the edge of the container and waited for the laser to move to the opposite side of the room. Ignoring his heart thumping in his ears, Gordon pressed on the tips of his toes and readied himself.

The laser swerved to the left and he sprang towards the button, slamming it with his fist. The lift hummed into life, slowly rising.

Sensing movement, the turret rotated and began to lock onto Gordon. He ran for it, covering his head with his arms and heard bullets pierce into metal, floor and wall, trying to catch him.

Something pinged off the left bracer and he yelped in reflex. He dropped into a skid and slid underneath the rising platform, the bullets boring into it but unable to penetrate.

Scrambling behind the grating, he gasped for air, shaking from exertion and fear. For a moment, he thought he’d lost his arm and just didn’t feel it due to adrenaline. He quickly examined himself, checking he was still whole and not bleeding. There wasn’t a single dent in the plating and no evidence that he’d been hit whatsoever.

Wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, he silently thanked the HEV and approached the circuit breaker. He pried the cover off with the crowbar, seeing the maze of wiring with the switch inside and he flicked it up. Not satisfied, he yanked at the wires, the suit allowing him to tear them free with little effort. He wanted to make sure that thing _wasn’t_ coming back on.

Above, the turret short circuited and powered down.

“I hope there’s no more of these...”

He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be so lucky. For now he could at least walk around without being shot at and no one else would fall prey to the defences by accident.

Returning to the centre of the room, he was left with two options; go where the scientist had come from, or take the other corridor to try and find a way back to Carter.

Paranoia tried to invade again and he quickly shook his head, forcing it out.

He strode into the corridor, following it around and finding a barricaded door. Someone had really tried to prevent the creatures coming through, but it obviously hadn’t worked. Moving the debris aside, he unlocked the door and opened it up.

Carter was waiting on one of the chairs next to the hole, nervously tapping his foot. Gordon whistled, getting his attention. He swiftly joined him.

“Oh, thank god! I heard someone screaming and I thought...”

“No. Someone else, sadly.”

“Shit... We were too late.”

“There could still be more. The defences have been triggered and they’re shooting at whatever moves.”

“I was wondering why you looked rough, no offense.”

Shaking his head, Gordon turned and made the journey back with Carter close behind him. On arrival to the storage area Carter shuddered at the sight of the scientist, moving away. Gordon refused to look a second time – once was enough – and instead focused on the way forwards.

“Jesus Christ... Poor bastard.”

The path circled around to a winding set of wide stairs, leading up towards the next level. He switched to his handgun, keeping it primed and motioned to Carter to stay quiet. Nodding, the guard stuck close and backed him up as they ascended the steps.

Some shelves and panels had been dumped along the stairwell, presumably being used as cover or defences by those who came this way. Gordon held his nerve, trying to control his breathing, having no idea of what was around the next corner.

To his surprise it was two desks, stacked on top of each other, forming a barricade on the right hand side of the stairs.

A man rose from the other side, aiming a handgun at his head.

“Freeze!”

Doing exactly that, Gordon quickly put his hands up and Carter moved to stand next to him.

“Woah, woah! We’re friendly!”

The olive-skinned guard blinked and lowered the gun. A blonde, female scientist with red glasses poked her head around the corner of the desk.

“Carter? Shit, man, I thought you were dead. Where’s Maxwell?”

“He... Didn’t make it.”

“Damn...” He smoothed a hand back over his shaved, dark hair, looking to Gordon apologetically.

“Sorry. Things have gone from bad to worse and I already lost Norman.”

Gordon glanced down the stairs, figuring that Norman was the scientist who met a rather violent end. He nodded slightly, bringing his hands down.

“We’re pinned down here – there’s a turret at the top and although it’s killed the rest of those things, it’ll shoot at us if we get too close.”

“Well, good thing we got the doc here, then. He’ll be able to handle it, no sweat. Right?”

It wasn’t like he was getting a choice. He sighed quietly.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Carter, I need you to go back to Lewis and bring him, Dr. Fisher and the other two back this way, while we have the chance to.”

“You got it, doc.”

Carter nodded and headed back down the stairs. The other guard and the woman came out from their hiding place and moved to take cover on the stairwell behind the wall.

“I’ll protect her and watch our backs. You do what you need to do.”

Readying himself, Gordon ascended the steps quickly and sheltered behind another desk that had been used to protect the left side. The turret spun from left to right, its laser moving over the floor and walls. Dead crabs were scattered throughout.

With no way of turning this one off, he would have to destroy it and quickly. The desk was much more fragile than that crate and if he lost his shield, he’d have no chance.

He steadied his shaking hands, held his breath and rose to fire upon the turret.

Two shots pinged into the machine’s rotor and it jammed, smoking and sparking as it met him. It went dead.

“It’s safe!”

The two hurried up the stairs after him and the guard nodded in approval, patting his shoulder.

“Good work. Whilst the others are on their way, we should see what’s ahead.”

Offering a faint smile, Gordon nodded and turned to the double doors, taking point. With the others in tow, he pulled the doors open and warily stepped inside the comparatively well-lit lobby.

The signs told him he was in Sector D and on Level 2. He was grateful to have an idea of where he was at long last, but his relief was short lived. A snarl from the darkened space past the open double doors on the right announced danger and he turned to meet it, firing two shots at a mutated staff member, both of which hit in the head.

As it fell to the floor, the guard and his ward came to stand near him. Gordon looked around for an alternative direction, but, as ever, there wasn’t one. Noticing this also, the guard muttered.

“Alright, it might be better if I let you go on without worrying about us. I’ll check the office over here and get everyone to hide inside when they arrive. It should hopefully keep us safe for a little while.”

“Got it.”

“Good luck, doc. You’re going to need it.”

The guard led the woman away to an office near the entrance, going inside and seemingly finding safety with the lack of noise coming from the closed door. Gordon was alone again and the foreboding entrance waited for him like an open mouth. He hesitated, trying to convince his feet to move.

_They’re counting on you._

No pressure.

Inhaling sharply and raising his shoulders, he braved the black fog and vanished into it, until the beam of light cut through.

With trepidation he slowly advanced through the tunnel lined with pipes and valves, metal grating underfoot and maintenance equipment as well as boxes scattered throughout. Some items had been knocked over, dried blood staining the areas of floor and wall his tiny spotlight caught. Sharp, warped shadows formed, twisting shapes that resembled otherworldly beings and not simple, inanimate objects.

A shattered light with still sparking wires gave accompaniment to his light steps, the soles of his boots crunching on glass. He tried to keep his breaths quiet, though they shook through his lips, only being able to see so much at any one time. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his ears were straining for the slightest disturbance.

Something moved and fell to the floor. He flinched, turning to the source and aimed at the paint can that rolled along the width of the corridor.

Sighing quietly, he was about to lower his gun when he heard something else land behind him. This time it was heavier... And _breathing_.

Spinning around with a gasp, he was choked into silence as three long fingers curled around his neck and hauled him off the floor. He kicked frantically, tugging at the thin but firm wrist and trying to loosen its grip, the HEV lighting up one of the scouts that had caught him. Its red eyes glowed in the dark like a demon and as if to further the point it snarled viciously, spitting something out that, judging by its tone, could have been an insult.

Gordon levelled the firearm at it, but he was too slow. It snatched his wrist and pushed his arm aside before he could pull the trigger. The blast echoed throughout the corridor, piercing his ears. Not only did it fail to dissuade his assailant but it was also not enough to signal that something was wrong. Gunshots were expected. He fought for breath, only managing a weak noise when he attempted to call for help.

His vision wavered and darkened, the lack of oxygen beginning to make him feel light-headed. The prying of its fingers slowed down and became weaker, his struggling much the same. All the while, those burning eyes stared at him, content to watch him die.

_Help..._

Another of its kind approached, observing his suffering and saying something to its comrade, coldly calm. There was a blunt response and it nodded, opening a clawed hand where energy coalesced in its palm. He fired again, more out of reflex than aggression. It made no difference, the bullet hitting the wall harmlessly. The sound this time was duller, more muffled; a sign that he was blacking out.

Seeing the green arcs now being aimed at him, making his eyes sting, Gordon made one last desperate struggle for freedom. He gave up with the fingers and instead used what little energy he had left to start hitting at the suit’s carapace, confusing the pair judging by their sudden pause.

The HEV hummed and shortly after discharged its pulse – sending the two creatures flying backwards and him in the opposite direction. Boxes, barrels and equipment made a cacophony of noise, being flung away and collapsing like bowling pins.

It was a rough landing, Gordon tumbling head over heels and skidding into the wall with a thud. His glasses came loose, clattering to the floor.

_'Power level: 85%'_

Gasping painfully and groaning, he propped himself up with one arm and his other hand blindly searched for the lenses. Everything was blurry and the space echoed with sounds of movement and garbled cries. Any moment now they could be on him he couldn’t see a damn thing. He panicked, widening the radius of his pats.

_Please, please, please..._

By some miracle, his fingers nudged the frames and he quickly grabbed them and shoved them on his face. He could finally see again, though there was a foggy filter over everything; shapes unfocused and light leaving trails. Breaths wheezing, he coughed hoarsely and winced, holding his throat which was now incredibly sore.

One of the things was partially buried by heavy containers and unmoving, with the other emerging from under a ladder, hauling it aside. Holding its left arm, it limped towards its companion and checked them over, saying something. When there was no response, it turned towards Gordon and snarled.

It began to stride over, its eyes somehow redder with rage, green electricity flickering through its digits. The scout was determined to kill him even in its injured state, to finish the job he interrupted.

Terror rising, he searched for the handgun and saw it on the floor near the opposite wall, too close to the approaching alien. With how quickly it was advancing, there was no time to fumble with the shotgun, either. Down to his last resort, he tugged the crowbar free and scrambled to his feet, dizziness affecting his balance.

The shackled creature circled him, waiting for an opening. Its dominating presence forced him into the centre of the hall and he needed to turn with it to keep it within the HEV’s light. Lowering itself into an aggressive, wide stance, it made subtle gestures of approach to keep him on his toes, trying to psyche him out.

There was silence other than their footfalls and ragged breaths, eyes locked onto their opponent.

It was a life or death battle between predator and prey.

Growling out words he couldn’t understand, it made the first move – launching at him and swiping its claws from its better arm. He weaved to the side, a light screech coming from the plates on the carapace where its nails connected and swung the crowbar. The scout turned sharply and grabbed the tool before it landed, trying to tug it out of his hand. 

Clinging to the crowbar for dear life, Gordon tugged back, refusing to let it go and leave himself unarmed. His defiance only angered it further, green death being conjured in its palm and it prepared to fire it at him. In such close proximity, he had little chance of avoiding being hit. Adrenaline fuelling his actions, he did the unthinkable.

He approached and took the middle arm by the wrist in a firm grip, twisting it. The bone under the skin snapped under the force the suit provided.

The glow was extinguished and it howled in agony, releasing the crowbar. With an opening at last, Gordon swung overhead and struck it right between the eyes, then delivered a brutal blow across its jaw. It staggered backwards, hacking out blood. Heart hammering in his chest, he kept up his assault, trying to hit it again.

Both claws grabbed the crowbar this time and it pulled, his boots dragging along the floor until he stumbled. His other hand latched onto the crowbar to save himself and the pair wrestled for control, glaring at each other and baring teeth.

It swung him left and right with a growl, trying to make him let go and he fought to stay standing. He was convinced that if he ended up on the floor again, he wouldn’t be getting back up. It would tear him apart. Enraged by his refusal to go down and the pain it was in, it spat something in its guttural tongue, sending specks of mossy blood mixed with saliva over his face and glasses, making him squint.

Knowing this was a contest of fortitude he couldn’t keep up with for much longer, Gordon reluctantly released the crowbar after shoving it upwards, catching the creature off guard. He punched it in the largest eye, making it cry out. It dropped the weapon, covering its bleeding orb.

Picking up the crowbar, Gordon lunged and swung with all the strength he could muster, hearing a crack as it connected with its skull. It collapsed to the floor.

Gasping for breath, feeling his legs starting to crumple from under him, he slumped against the wall and sank to his knees, completely exhausted. His muscles burned, pushed to the limit following oxygen deprivation and the fall. Droplets of sweat ran down his neck and from his nose and chin, dripping onto the floor.

Once again, that simple tool had saved his life. If he _had_ to choose between it and guns, he knew which one he would pick every time, as gruesome as the outcome always was.

The creature stirred, groaning weakly. Gordon opened his eyes, the sound alarming him, but it didn’t get up yet.

He used the wall to climb to his feet, not wanting to take any chances, then dragged himself along it towards the handgun; almost falling over when scooping it up. It appeared to be in one piece still, much to his relief.

A gurgling cough made him look back to the fallen beast and he slowly approached it, remaining cautious.

Its head was severely damaged and bleeding, claws scraping against the floor lightly. Blind in its main eye, the smaller ones rolled towards him, watching from under half-open lids. It was struggling to breathe and judging by the tremors in its chest, slowly dying.

Gordon stared at it, panting and shivering a little. Somehow, he still felt pity and even some remorse, despite it all.

The red orbs flicked towards the crowbar in his hand, then back up to him. He blinked, lifting the tool – looking from it to the creature – and it nodded vaguely.

It _wanted_ him to kill it.

Frowning, Gordon fought with himself, debating whether it deserved mercy or not. The distant, almost pleading glint in its eyes toyed with his conscience.

_“You always were too soft, Gordon.”_

Clenching his jaw, he held the crowbar in both hands and raised it, aiming the wedge downwards. The creature exhaled peacefully, closed its eyes and lowered its head. It was waiting.

He hesitated for a moment, watching it lay there. A sigh escaped him.

One strike in the heart was all it took to end its life.

Gordon walked away sluggishly, wiping at his face, both of the crowbar’s ends dripping and leaving a trail behind him.

He escaped the darkness at last as the victor, stepping out into a junction. Cinder block walls, sparsely decorated with safety posters and concrete floors were lit up by caged lamps. There was a double door at one end and a set of stairs heading down on his left. Stacks of containers, cleaning equipment and unused furniture sat in the corner. He spied a vent cover next to his feet, noting it for later.

Still recovering from his encounter, he slipped the stained crowbar through the holster and held the handgun in one hand, using his other to support him along the wall as he descended the steps. The search for survivors continued, regardless of his condition.

They took him down to another section of the tunnel network, again sealed by the thick, towering doors. A company SUV had collided with them, its hood crumpled and bent out of place and driver door ajar. The brake lights flashed on and off, an eerie clicking coming from them.

Seeing the asphalt road made his heart sink. So close and yet so far.

Rough, gravelly voices of alien chatter came from the corner and he tensed, pressing against the wall and peering around it carefully.

Two more of the scouts were tearing into the corpses of a scientist and a guard, blood smeared over their forms. The tunnel in the other direction was also sealed. He could only fathom that the two had tried to evacuate, collided with the closing doors when the place went into lockdown and were attacked shortly afterwards. What a way to go.

He couldn’t risk them finding the others, or getting snuck up on again.

Holding his breath, he ducked out of cover and fired four rounds at the one on the left. Not expecting to be disturbed, it was caught completely unaware and dropped in a heap from its injuries. Crying out in anguish and rage, the other conjured its lightning. Gordon squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

After his brawl earlier, he forgot to check his ammunition. A critical error.

“Oh, shit!”

He ran, the lightning partially hitting his cover and the wall beyond it. The scout charged after him with a roar.

There was no time to reload. The beast was right on his heels; he could hear its claws clacking against the floor. He had no chance against an uninjured one in melee and he also wasn’t willing to try.

Gordon began to flee up the stairs, but his fatigue caught up with him. One leg gave out and he fell flat against the stone with a grunt.

The steps slowed. Seeing its tired prize, his hunter took its time approaching him, growling out a breath. He subtly shrugged off the shotgun’s strap, faking a pathetic attempt to get up to mask taking it into his hands.

His plan worked. It took the bait – convinced he was an easy kill – and moved closer with confidence.

He rolled onto his back, pumping the shotgun and taking aim whilst it loomed over him. It realised its mistake far too late, eyes widening in horror.

One blast was enough, creating thunderous echoes throughout the vicinity. Scattered lead tore holes into its chest and neck, sending it back down the stairs. It slammed onto the concrete with a crunch.

Gordon slumped, laying on the uncomfortable angles and panted. He needed to stop and rest, just for a little while. Now the adrenaline had worn off, he was really feeling that fight, the choking and the leftovers of his harsh landings.

He glanced down to the HEV’s panel, pressing some of the keys. It hissed and he felt a jab in his wrist, making him wince.

_'Morphine administered.'_

For the suit to let him do that some considerable time must have passed, it was programmed to lock out until the previous dose wore off. He sat up and shuffled over to the wall, leaning against it. Whilst waiting for the painkiller to kick in, he loaded a replacement shell into the shotgun and finally put a fresh clip into the pistol. He scolded himself for being so foolish – how could he forget something so crucial?

The blame, he figured, wasn’t on tiredness alone. That creature’s gaze stayed with him in his mind’s eye. What was it saying throughout that ordeal? Was it as upset as he was, seeing his friends and own kind being slaughtered? For something so vengeful, it asked – no _begged_ – for death in the end. The anger in its eyes had vanished, like it was a different personality all together.

He shook his head, leaning his face in his palm.

What was he _doing_? Pity and kindness wouldn’t get him anywhere but certain death, as proven by his predicament just now. How many had _they_ shown mercy to? So what if one had acted just a little bit differently? It was cruel to him before he caved its skull in.

If he really needed evidence, there were two half-devoured bodies in that tunnel. It wasn’t who he was, no, but he _needed_ to kill or _be_ killed. There was no in-between. There was no choice.

He moved his hand away, taking a deep breath and releasing it.

_Use your head, not your heart, Gordon. Live._

The pain easing to a manageable amount, he hauled himself up and took the crowbar in his hand, dried and still drying blood of various shades decorating it.

It was a grim symbol of his tribulation, but it also served as something to remind himself of what he was fighting for.

Survival.

Gordon returned to the vent duct at the top of the stairs, yanking the cover off and nudging it aside with his boot. He crawled into the tight space, grunting at the soreness of his limbs that lingered still. A soft breeze on his face was becoming stronger the further he traversed, hinting that he was deep within the airflow network. His discomfort thankfully didn’t last too long.

He wound up in a cylindrical space that rattled and rumbled with the sound and movement of a large fan, blasting air at high speed into it. When he got out of the duct on the other side, he was fighting to keep his feet planted in the pit between the two platforms. The fan in the wall above had malfunctioned, tearing the weakened ladder that would have reached it away and bending the railings along with it. The air being circulated was warm and carrying a scent of hot metal, signifying that it could overheat and blow at any moment.

Pulling himself along the wall to the ladder on his side, he grabbed the rungs and clambered up. The force of the air pushed against his back, making the climb a struggle and when he reached the top it practically threw him onto his stomach. Now in direct line of fire as it were, he crawled, squinting and keeping his head low. The fan control was so close and yet felt like miles away with the gale-like wind hampering his efforts.

Gordon used the terminal to help him stand, clinging to it so to keep himself from being blown away into the back wall. He grabbed the lever and tugged it, feeling his boots start to slide.

The fan powered down, its blades slowing and coming to a stop, the air gradually weakening until vanishing completely. Sighing with relief, his hair dishevelled, he moved to inspect the gap between the two platforms. It wasn’t too great, he judged, taking a few steps backwards. He made a running jump to the other side of the small chamber, landing next to the fan and a ladder leading up.

Back inside another duct he went, though this time it offered him two very long routes left and right. He glanced between them, uncertain, having no idea where either side would take him. In the end he went with his gut, taking left.

There was a lot to be said about his instincts. He emerged on the other side of the double doors, barricaded by furniture. A good bash with the crowbar loosened the cover and he crawled out into a red-lit seating area, with only a couple of the ceiling lights functioning. It was clear and quiet for the moment.

He glanced into the office near him, seeing nothing of interest, but what he _did_ find beyond the windows of the lounge was the very thing Lewis was looking for.

The cafeteria.

Unfortunately he had also been right. The last ones who thought they could take shelter here were dead, sprawled out on the long tables and over the floor, with ravenous crab-headed monsters picking them clean. Rather dark irony, considering.

Frowning, Gordon pulled the handgun free and kept the crowbar in his other hand, using that arm to steady his aim. He began to put them down one by one, their slow reaction time being their downfall. Crabs fell from their perches above and tried to pounce on him, meeting metal when they got close. It was a wicked onslaught of bullets and strikes and he needed to use a whole clip on the horde even with precision shots.

When the gurgling, screeching and blasts stopped, things settled into tense quiet again. The hellish buffet was no more.

He ejected the spent clip, reaching for another and blinked, realising it was his last. This was the half empty one he got from that guard. After that all he had left was eleven, very valuable shells and he really didn’t want to waste them. It was only going to get worse from here, he figured. He had to hope he could find more.

Loading the gun, he looked around.

A double door was at the opposite end, partially blocked off. The kitchen area on the right side was still clean, its equipment set up and ready to be used for a lunch time that will never come. It made him feel uneasy; a reminder that a very mundane, average day had taken a very horrible turn. A circular balcony sat above the area, overlooking it, though he couldn’t see much beyond its railings.

The way was now clear, but the problem Gordon was facing was that he had no idea of where he needed to go next. He may have succeeded in his objective, at least for the moment, but there was still a matter of getting to the surface.

_I sure hope Lewis keeps his end of the deal..._

There was no guarantee of it. He was the one with authority; he was under no obligation to let him go even after all he had done.

With an anxious sigh, he returned to the barricaded door he saw in the lounge, unblocking it and opening the way back through. From there it was a case of retracing his steps. He passed the dead scouts in the dark tunnel, not sparing a glance to either of them and soon made it to the office the rest were hiding in.

Gordon knocked on the door and Lewis opened it, gun in hand. His frown faded into a warm smile, relieved to see him.

“Freeman! We were getting worried, hearing all those shots going off. You’re a mess... Are you alright?”

“Sore but I’ll live. The way to the cafeteria is clear.”

“See? I told you the doc could handle it.” Carter called up.

Rather stunned by his words, almost not believing him, Lewis reluctantly nodded.

“Yeah... So you did, Carter. Well, you’ve certainly proven yourself capable, far more than I would have expected. Not that I doubted you or anything.” He quickly added on, clearing his throat.

Gordon could sense a blow to the man’s ego and that was probably a lot more painful than his bruised nose. It wasn’t intentional of course, but proving people wrong did give him a sense of pride. He enjoyed the moment in secret, trying not to grin at Carter who gave him a cheeky thumbs up.

Lewis eyed Carter, who quickly pretended he was innocent and grumbled as he left the door, turning to the others.

“Alright, people, let’s move!”

Gordon led the way back to the messy cafeteria, Lewis behind him and the others in formation to protect the frightened staff. It certainly wasn’t the shelter they had been hoping for and he could sense the disappointment. The scientists didn’t look any more comfortable, huddled together at one of the tables but the guards tried their best to keep them away from the worst of it.

“It’s not the ideal picture I had in my head, but it’ll serve its purpose. Once we do a bit of cleaning up and get the doors blocked, we should be alright until help arrives.”

“We won’t starve or die of thirst, so that’s a plus.” Carter nodded.

Dr. Fisher walked over to Gordon and smiled up to him as he attempted to clean off traces of blood and saliva from his glasses.

“Dr. Freeman. Let me just say that – on behalf of the science team – thank you for your bravery and for getting us here safely. You’re a hero today, you know that?”

Blinking, Gordon settled the glasses on his nose and quickly shook his head, feeling his cheeks burning.

“Uh, n-no, Dr. Fisher, I’m really not. Lewis and his team are the ones who deserve the praise; I was just doing what I was told.”

“Don’t be so modest, young man! Yes, the others did splendidly but they wouldn’t have got us here without your help. We owe you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Lewis?”

Lewis walked over, looking at Dr. Fisher and folding his arms.

“What was that, doc?”

“We owe Dr. Freeman for helping us, don’t we? You said you knew a way to get to the surface from here.”

Gordon was surprised that Dr. Fisher was so forward about it, but he was grateful, too. He wasn’t sure how to bring the subject up and it gave him a little more confidence knowing he had someone in his corner. The others were far too shaken to do so, though they looked at him with small smiles and shiny eyes of praise.

“Oh, right...” Lewis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, Freeman, I’m still kinda reluctant to let you go, but I’m also in your debt. We all are. One last favour to ask though; could you let the military know where we are when you find them?”

“Of course.”

“You know they could fire me for this, don’t you, Dr. Fisher? He’s science personnel and I’m letting him run off and get himself – potentially – killed.”

“Bah! I’m sure they can overlook that in the face of disaster. Besides, you wouldn’t want to try and restrain him whilst he’s in that suit, would you?”

Gordon pointedly looked at Lewis and his nostrils flared just a little at the notion, eyeing the HEV.

“Good point. This way, Freeman.”

He turned and began to walk away, Gordon moving to follow but did pass a small smirk to Dr. Fisher, speaking quietly.

“Thanks.”

“The science team looks out for each other. Stay safe, Dr. Freeman. Thank you, again.”

Nodding, his smirk widening into a smile, he caught up with Lewis after giving Carter a small wave. They arrived at the blocked door, clambering over gathered trash bins and blue plastic chairs to get to the other side.

Lewis looked back and forth, recalling where he was and nodded slowly.

“Alright... Chances are a lot of the doors are gonna be locked or blocked from this point on, since the last poor bastards sealed off the place. Your only way through will be via the refrigerated storage unit at the other end of this hallway. It won’t freeze you to death, not with that suit on anyway, but try not to get lost in there. Carter said you enjoy crawling around in vents, so this shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Got it.”

“After that, well, you’re on your own. You’ll find more offices but I ain’t got a clue of what they’ll be like or what’s waiting in them. You’re looking for the main elevator, anyway. That’ll get you to the silos above and from there you’ll be able to find a way to the surface. With any luck the soldiers will have made it by then.”

“Thank you.”

“I still think you’re crazy, Freeman. You could be walking right into a death trap. Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?”

The two looked at each other and Gordon could see the concern on Lewis’ face. Sure, sitting in the cafeteria could be both comfortable and safe, regardless of the state it was in, but he needed to keep moving. Sector C was far beneath them and if the soldiers weren’t aware of Eli and Isaac – as well as Barney, assuming he hadn’t got them out already – they would be left behind. That wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m sorry, Lewis. This is something I have to do.”

Sighing heavily, Lewis nodded.

“Alright. If you see Calhoun, tell him he’s in deep shit when I get out of here... And I better see you, too.”

Smiling, Gordon nodded back.

“I will... And I’ll be there, I’m sure of it.”

Lewis managed a strained, worried smile and patted Gordon’s shoulder, clambering over the blockade and beginning to tug the furniture inside the cafeteria.

“Good luck, Freeman... And be careful.”

Carter and the other guard came over to help him, offering their goodbyes and shortly after the doors were closed, barred and blocked.

The mission was over.

Back in his own company again, the lonely corridor beckoned him to continue his journey. As selfish as it may have sounded to him, he now only had himself to worry about and his own interests in mind. He sighed quietly and slowly walked, thinking back to Dr. Fisher’s words.

Flattering as the compliment was, he wondered if he would have felt the same way knowing he was involved in all of this. Would he be a hero in his eyes then?

He doubted it.

After some turns and lengths of hall with nothing but flickering lights and closed offices in them, he came to the thick metal door with a frosted window. On the floor near it were two dead scientists, a fellow co-worker and guard consuming their remains and feeding the gaping maws in their chest cavity. Upon sensing Gordon they stopped and rose from their meals, snarling and lurching their way towards him.

As a last assurance that Lewis and the others would remain safe, he put them down using the rounds he had left before they got too close. The guard was especially resilient and a little more capable of making his aim difficult, much to his annoyance.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

“That’s it...” He muttered, removing the empty clip and discarding it.

The crowbar made its return, replacing the now dry handgun which he secured into the holster. With it in hand, he moved over to the first aid station on the wall, figuring it would be a good opportunity to replenish the suit’s reserve before he went further.

It granted him a small window of solace.

Standing face to face with the steel plated door, just about seeing shelving racks through the frost, he grabbed the handle and pulled it downwards. The door groaned into life and slowly slid away, trails of mist seeping through it and into the corridor like a rolling fog.

Damn it was cold.

Gordon held back a shiver, stepping inside. He closed the door behind him, preventing whatever may have been trapped in there from escaping.

Of course that meant trapping himself, too.

He was now, essentially, stuck in a giant fridge with a sterile, white tiled floor and steel panel walls. The glow of bright lights swam through the rising mist, as cold in tone as the temperature itself. The shelves were stacked with boxes of food; fruits, vegetables and dairy products.

White wisps escaped his nose with an exhale and he gradually moved through with deliberate, soft steps to keep a low profile.

The door ahead wouldn’t budge which didn’t come as much of a surprise, remembering what Lewis had told him. Leaving it alone, he continued into the darker area further on, seeing a vent duct above one of the higher racks. That was a good start, but he had no way of getting to it and he doubted crates of eggs would handle his weight.

“Hm...”

Gordon looked to the remainder of the L-shaped room, requiring the HEV’s light to see. One of the racks on the right looked a little bent out of shape, its top shelf having collapsed on one side and creating a ramp upwards. It was a curious sight considering nothing else appeared to be damaged or have any structural problems.

Clicks and hisses alerted him to the crabs on the rack, peering over it and raising their fangs. They sprung. He dodged one and struck the other away, hearing a metallic clang as it hit the wall. The other, having missed and landing on the floor, turned to him only to be swiftly put down by a stomp from his boot. He made a face at the noise it made, strings of gunk and blood sticking to the grips.

Stomach turning, he distracted himself with the rack, scraping the mess off as he approached it. Some boxes of fruit juice gave him a boost towards the fallen shelf and he looked at the small, angled flashlight casting a circle of light towards the ceiling. It appeared to have been abandoned at the shelf’s edge, as if it had rolled down and away from its owner.

“A guard’s... Someone else thought the same thing as me, I guess.”

He left it alone, crawling up the ramp and to an open vent duct at its peak. Someone had definitely come through here before him, which gave Lewis’ hunch some merit. Whether they were still alive however was another thing entirely. With that thought in mind he remained wary, dragging himself inside the shaft.

The turns were tight and winding, preventing him from seeing much until it finally straightened out. No sooner as he clambered out on the other side and landed on the floor, a crab flew towards him.

Gasping, he narrowly dodged it and it flew into the wall behind, stunning itself. A quick bash made it incapable of trying that again.

_These damn things are relentless..._

Calming himself, he breathed out a puff of mist and looked up at the open duct on the wall next to him, opposite to where he’d come from. It was too high to reach. Biting the inside of his cheek in mild annoyance, he spied a crate near the dead crab and attempted to push it. He couldn’t budge it even a little bit. As he leant his back against its surface with a frown, he looked around the room.

_There has to be another way. Think._

Normally his solutions were hiding in plain sight and this one was no different.

On the ceiling was a track for a crane, a much smaller one compared to what he’d clung to over that pit underground. It ran from the room he was standing in, along the corridor and to a large area ahead.

Whilst it wasn’t an experience he wanted to revisit, following the tracks had helped him before. He intended to do so again.

They took him to a chilled warehouse of sorts. Hanging meat of all kinds idly swung on large hooks, some squeaking and giving the place an unnerving ambience. Emergency lights in both red and white shone on random spots of wall and floor, showing him a vague idea of the perimeter, though it was still uncomfortably dark.

Compared to the other room, the racks were messy with boxes and crates torn open, scattering food over them and liquids dripping off the shelves. Some had been dragged to the floor and their contents were both eaten and trampled on.

Worryingly, some of the carcasses had been nibbled at as well.

A snorting grunt made him freeze. Rising from behind two battered-open crates was a tapered tail.

_Oh god..._

That wasn’t good. In fact that was _very_ bad.

Gordon kept his eyes on it, slowly putting the crowbar down and reaching for the shotgun.

The creature stopped eating and sniffed. Its bloodied tentacles felt the air whilst it peeked out from its spot, a reptilian eye dilating in the glare of his flashlight.

Without a moment to lose, it charged towards him, bashing one of the crates aside in doing so. It was covered in remnants of egg, tomatoes and other foodstuffs, having gorged itself on the supplies as well as the poor guard Gordon had been following.

He leapt to the side, interrupted in his preparation. It missed him and skidded along the floor, claws scraping into the tiles. For its large size it was quite nimble, charging again with a haunting bellow. Gordon had only just got to his feet when he had to stumble out of the way, the beast ploughing into the rack behind him.

A whine escaped it, hitting its head and stunning itself. Seizing his chance, Gordon pulled the shotgun into his hands and took aim. It shook itself back to focus, turned towards him and thundered forwards, tentacles spread outward and its maw filled with sharp teeth open.

He fired, the boom rattling the walls. The beast was hit; flesh tearing and spraying mess everywhere. It let out a pained cry but it didn’t stop, its momentum was too great. Before he had a chance to fire again, it collided with him – hitting him right in the gut.

“Agh!”

Gordon slammed into the tiles and he felt hefty weight land on top of him. Coughing, winded and mildly stunned, he looked up.

His eyes stared into the toothy hole ahead, the tentacles splayed out over his chest. He screamed, struggling underneath the limp creature and pushed it off with some effort, scurrying away.

Panting rapidly, the front of the suit covered in green blood, he shook against the remaining crate.

For a moment, he thought that was the last thing he was ever going to see. He held his head with unsteady hands, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

_I hate this. I hate this so much..._

Every time Gordon felt like he had a handle on things, found a routine and got a plan, this nightmare threw a curveball. It cruelly played with his life and toyed with his mind. It reminded him when he got comfortable, when he felt safe and when he gathered courage that he could die at any time. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’; it was a matter of ‘when’. Slavering maws, rending claws and the very facility itself wanted to kill him.

Death lurked and waited for him to slip up, to make him another victim of this catastrophe.

He could feel his resolve wavering.

_Pull yourself together, Gordon! You’re so close now! Just a little more and then it’ll be over... You’ll see the sun again soon._

Letting out a sharp exhale, mist rising from his lips, he lowered his hands and used them to push him to his feet. He picked up the shotgun, looping it over his shoulder and walked over to the crowbar, scooping it into his hand.

It was time to get back to the task at hand. The bullsquid had gotten rid of the crabs in the area, leaving him to figure things out in peace. He searched for a way of activating the crane, finding a large valve handle in the dim red light below it. The crane itself was a pulley system with hooks attached and a sturdy metal platform running across it. It was just a matter of turning the valve and getting the platform into position.

Easier said than done.

It took a few tries to get it right, like one of those frustrating grab games in an arcade you spent all your cents on as a kid.

Happy with the result, Gordon searched for a way back up to the ventilation system, clambering onto another rack with the help of boxes, containers and pallets of juice. He crawled along, ducking into one vent and coming out over the area with the dead beast, then into another one.

He was back where he started with the ramp and the flashlight, having completed a circuit. Nodding to himself, he made his way back into the original shaft, finding his makeshift bridge and crossing it with no problems.

It was time to leave the giant fridge at last.

The clinging cold dissipated. He kept his mind blank, crawling through the winding, rumbling tunnel, listening for anything unusual. It was certainly taking him somewhere, the route changing direction seemingly at random, giving him a large space to climb in and continuing on and on.

It was only when he got to a junction that he saw something different; another guard, dead in a pool of blood by a grate. They must have gotten lost and died from blood loss. He shuffled over, checking him for ammunition and found a clip, stuffing it away into his holster for now.

“Thank you... I’m sorry.”

Backing up and awkwardly turning in the cramped space, he headed in the other direction.

He emerged in a dimly lit maintenance area, mesh fencing ahead and a vent shaft above. With the door locked he instead crawled into a small space, taking him to the other side of the shaft to reveal a myriad of other ones. Amongst them, hanging tongues idly curled, waiting patiently.

Gordon spied a ladder on the left, rising to a walkway. Choosing to avoid the maws rather than fight, he climbed over the curve of a vent in the floor and pressed against the wall, shuffling along it. The vibrations made the tongues move and lash around, but he was just out of reach. He was left to climb unhindered.

The walkway took him to yet another shaft, its cover removed and left leaning against the railings. It was wider than the last one, which may have hinted that it was going to take him somewhere that needed a lot of circulation. With a little more eagerness, hope pushing him forward, he climbed inside.

A red light at the other end of the long straight made him crawl faster. This had to be it. He may have ‘enjoyed’ crawling around in vents, but there was growing worry that he was stuck in a maze he would never get out of. It was a terrifying thought, being doomed to the confines of the bowels of Black Mesa and eventually dying a slow, painful death.

That wasn’t to be his fate, however.

He slid out of the shaft and into a similar stairwell to the one earlier with the turret, Carter and the remaining survivors. There was no turret or blockades this time, just a dead guard and multiple dead crabs in the vicinity.

The relief on his face and the small grin that joined it faded as he looked to the sombre scene. With a sigh he rummaged through the man’s pouches, taking four shells and a spare clip. He fed the handgun with it, having one more to spare and replaced the shell he used on the beast from the cold storage.

Suitably armed, he climbed the stairs. Nothing was going to stop him now.

When he reached the top and approached the open double doors, his determination turned to horror.

Directly ahead was the elevator Lewis spoke of, only there was no cab. Instead the doors opened up into the shaft, a ladder attached to the wall in plain view. Almost mockingly, the exit sign above was lit up clear as day whilst the rest of the corridor was plunged into darkness.

Shivering, Gordon’s HEV light picked up what lay before it.

Bodies of both scientists and guards were strewn over the hallway, some torn into pieces with their limbs scattered about. The floor was covered, no, _coated_ in death. The cause of the mess had been a contingent of mutated staff, which now lay torn asunder. A group of scouts replaced them, taking the bountiful feast for themselves.

Slowly, they turned to look at him, their many fiery eyes staring.

If he was going to escape, he had to get past _them_ first.

Fear made his brain switch off but it quickly rebooted with his own thoughts screaming at him.

_RUN!_

He ran, except forwards and not backwards. If he retreated he’d be cornered and almost assuredly killed. Surprised by his tactic, the scouts had a delayed reaction and it gave him a chance he so desperately needed to find cover. They cried out to each other and raised their arms in unison, creating a dazzling, deadly light display and dousing the whole corridor with green glare.

Gordon leapt through the window of the office on his left, the glass already shattered. He ducked under it, grabbing the shotgun and readying himself for a fight to the death. Bolts flung through the window, hitting the wall; scorching it and shattering photo frames in an explosion of glass shards. He grimaced, feeling them bounce off him, though he refused to be spooked out of hiding.

Alien speech garbled from the other side of his defence and he could hear them spreading out. They knew he was armed.

Taking a deep breath, he peered over the window ledge. The creatures had moved, placing themselves around walls and behind pillars, being just as cautious as he was. His eyes flicked between each one, counting five. He could have sworn there were six.

One of them shouted something and another’s claws curled around the right side of the window frame, before pouncing out directly in front of him.

“AHHH!”

He threw himself away, avoiding being grabbed and landing on his back. Having missed, the scout tried to climb into the office with him, kicking away bits of glass and needing to hunch due to its height. The others seized the opportunity their braver member had provided; he could hear them coming closer.

Gordon aimed the shotgun at it from his prone position. Tilting its head, it looked him over and noticed the trembling of his form. He swore he heard it chuckle at him, either not finding him much of a threat or doubting he had the capacity to pull the trigger.

They were about to learn what happens when they corner a terrified man with firearms.

Gritting his teeth with a glare, Gordon pulled the trigger. He saw its eyes widen before vanishing behind the muzzle flash, being blasted out and away from the office.

Adrenaline surged. He pushed himself up and aimed out of the window, pumping the shotgun. He fired again, hitting another one in the head and sending it into the wall. Panicked cries and snarls were heard underneath the blast, his ears suffering. He reloaded, flinging out an empty shell and was forced to duck when a blast of lightning flew his way.

“If you want me that badly, come and get me!”

Taking him up on his challenge, the group swarmed, wanting to avenge their two fallen. A pair concentrated fire on the window, preventing him from using it. He shuffled along the wall, staying low and out of sight and headed towards the doorway with no door, hoping to use it as another vantage point.

One of the creatures had the same idea and entered the office, gathering energy as soon as it laid eyes on him. Gordon dived to and crawled under a desk, out of harm’s way. It pursued him, grabbing the desk and flinging it aside, expecting to lunge on its kill.

It ate a face full of lead instead, falling backwards.

Pushing to his feet, Gordon jogged to the doorway and pressed against it. He quickly glanced around the corner, seeing two of them moving towards the window to inspect what had gone on inside.

He darted out, firing at the nearest one and quickly hid behind the pillar opposite as its friend fired. Green sparks flew past, a little too close for comfort. Panting through teeth, he ejected the shell and loaded a new one.

When he emerged to take a shot, the creature was running at him, claws outward. He fired once; hitting it in the legs and shattering its knees, making it stumble. It swiped for him, crying out in agony and he cut it off with a final shot. It fell back, landing on its side.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

He was just reaching for a shell to finish the last one off with, when that very creature appeared from behind the other side of the pillar.

A gasp was choked out when a swing from the creature’s arm collided with his chest, sending him to the floor; the shotgun flying out of his grip. He slid along the slick tiles and into the office wall, grunting.

The back of his head flared up with soreness as it hit concrete, dazing him. He groaned, eyes flickering and unfocused. A long shape was coming towards him, getting nearer with each slow blink. His mind was telling him to stand up, to not stay down, but his body wouldn’t respond.

He didn’t feel his feet leave the floor when he was hauled up by his neck, being pinned against the wall. Face to face with his killer, the scout leered at him and snarled, saying something filled with venomous hatred. Its other hand created sparks which it brought closer and closer to his skull.

His fingers curled around something and held it tightly, fighting the heaviness in his arm.

When all felt lost, as it appeared to gloat at him and prepared to see the light leave his eyes, he pulled it free.

The crowbar slammed against its throat and it choked, releasing him and staggering backwards. He slid down the wall, barely getting his footing whilst gasping for air and rubbing at his neck. The creature was doing much the same.

Gordon recovered a little bit faster, adrenaline pushing him to fight. He charged.

Too late to react, the scout looked up to see the crowbar coming at it a second time. It thwacked into its jaw, forcing its head to one side, before receiving a blow from the other way. Reeling, it slid over the bloody surface and struggled to keep its balance. It vanished completely when Gordon tackled it to the floor, landing on top of it.

The last thing it saw was the wedge of the crowbar.

Screaming with almost primal fury, Gordon thrust the crowbar deep into its eye and held it there. He knelt on top of the scout, his muscles quivering with tension and breaths strained. The creature’s hands lost grip on his shoulders and its body relaxed.

Alone in the corridor filled with violence, Gordon had come out the victor. Defying the odds, he had won.

The world spun as he pushed off the corpse and got to his feet. He tugged the crowbar out of the recesses of the creature’s skull, unsteadily walking over to the shotgun to retrieve it and pulling it up via the strap. Legs threatened to give out and the pillar was thankfully near enough to catch him. He leant against it, closing his eyes and focused on recovering oxygen, feeling his lungs burning.

His HEV was coated in both red and green blood, with little orange plating to be seen. Some specks of it were also in his hair and on his face. He was too tired to react, though subconsciously his stomach was performing acrobatics.

Silence returned to the place, only Gordon’s breaths and the crowbar’s drips being a sign of life amongst the dead.

As his body settled it started to shiver, a lingering coldness to his skin and sweat. The bump to the head would gradually fade, along with the other aches and pains due to the morphine still in his system. They needed to. He didn’t come all this way to stop at the final hurdle.

With that thought in mind, he slipped the crowbar through the holster and thumbed shells into the shotgun until full. Whatever waited for him up that shaft, he would be ready for it.

He slung the gun over his shoulder, pushing off the pillar and forcing his stiffened legs walk to the entrance of the shaft. Impatient perhaps, but reinforcements could come at any moment.

Across the pit, the white painted ladder beckoned. It was within reachable distance with a good jump. He was pushing his body to the limit a second time, determination to escape outweighing his need to rest.

He gathered his nerve and his strength, taking a few deep breaths, then broke into a run. Air rushed past him, legs springing. He leapt over the pit and clutched the rungs, swinging his feet onto the ones underneath him.

“Ngh!”

The climb began at pace, the HEV supporting his limbs and providing him with lift. His eyes focused on what was ahead, the elevator cab slowly coming into view from the shadows of the sparsely lit shaft.

_Push, Gordon. Push._

With considerable distance to go, he reached the end of the first ladder. He took a moment to recuperate in an alcove used for maintenance, slumping. Damage to the structure was slowly creeping back – a ladder across from his ledge twisted into two halves. Cables and wires hung away from the walls and metal girders, sparking.

Feeling that was enough, he carefully manoeuvred away from the alcove and used fallen planks and metal sheets to clamber onto a partial set of stairs. They must have been used for electrical work, but something had fallen on them, sending the majority to the bottom of the shaft. No matter, what remained still provided a platform for him to jump from.

Gordon used what space he could for a run up, flying over towards the half of the ladder still attached and clinging to it. This time his climb was considerably shorter, bringing him to a series of thin, twisted beams that used to be walkways, which creaked underfoot. He didn’t stick around, crossing them as fast as he could before hopping to another section of ruined stairs.

At the top, he found the stuck elevator.

Kicking in the damaged hatch with his boot, it fell away and allowed him inside.

He dropped into the cab, panting and shaking. Too nervous about it doing something he didn’t like, he pressed the door release.

The doors slid open to reveal brightly lit concrete walls and floors, making his eyes sting with how much he’d been stuck in the dark. Once his vision settled, he stepped outside, hearing the doors close shut behind him.

He made it.

With wild, sweat-drenched hair, a pale face splattered and stained with blood that wasn’t his and tiredness in his eyes that suggested he could sleep for a week; Doctor Gordon Freeman looked like a man who had fought his way out of the darkest, dankest pits of hell.

Little did he know that things were going to become far worse than he ever would have imagined.


	4. 'We Got Hostiles!'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon's lone struggle to find the surface continues, taking him through the warrens of the storage facility. Not all is as it seems, however, as the military sent to deal with the incident appear to have a very different set of orders.

The lone physicist let out a slow breath and pulled the pistol from the holster in readiness, taking wary steps into the lobby. His boots thudded against stone squares, echoing into the high ceiling webbed with beams of metal, vent ducts, wires and pipes. A pair of vending machines hummed gently, tempting him with a break he had to refuse.

This time his location needed no guesswork. A large blueprint map hung on the right wall, showing diagrams of many different storage areas linked together via snaking corridors and staircases.

_SECTOR D: HIGH SECURITY MATERIALS STORAGE AREA – AUTHORISED ACCESS ONLY._

Gordon took in what he could from the confusing layout, not feeling very confident that he would remember much of it. There wasn’t time to waste on studying the map in great detail; with no direct route to the surface visible amongst the myriad of lines and shapes, he had to rely on his intuition to find one.

With that worry forced to the back of his mind for the moment, he approached the corner of the adjacent corridor, keeping his aim level.

He peered out, seeing a security booth on the right side. Whilst at first convinced that his eyes were playing tricks on him, still adjusting to everything being so bright all of a sudden, the shape of what he believed was a guard remained in place after a few blinks.

Relief washed over him and he lowered the weapon. More survivors.

A scientist darted out in front of him from the left, having been stood near a towering red blast door. He frantically ran to the booth, waving his arms and hitting the glass to get the guard’s attention.

“For god’s sake, open the silo doors! They’re coming for us; it’s our only way out!” His voice was full of fear, bordering on hysterical.

The other man had been watching the monitors until he was disturbed, turning to the scientist and walking to the window. His reactions were slow, as if suffering from shock. Gordon stood in place, watching the scene play out. Neither had noticed him, too focused on their own situation. He could see that the guard’s face was ghostly white, highlighted by the glow of the lights above.

A vent duct on the wall next to where the guard stood suddenly tore open, long, bony talons latching around the man’s neck and shoulder and then greedily dragging him into the shaft. Screaming and kicking, he fired his gun out of panic – hitting two of the screens and the reinforced glass. He disappeared into the dark, the screams getting further away and the metal throat lighting up from additional pulls of the trigger.

Reeling away in terror from the booth, the scientist fled towards the open door on the opposite side of the junction.

“Oh my god, we’re doomed!”

Gordon stared after him, catching a strange blue light running along the width of the corridor the man ran into.

When his leg passed through it, something exploded. He was engulfed, disappearing into a ball of fire, shrapnel and rubble. Thrown out of his despair, Gordon yelped and covered his face from the rush of heat.

The sector burst into disarray, alarms blaring and red warning lights flashing. Flames licked at the ceiling, triggering the sprinkler system and the fire door began to lower to seal off the blaze. With nowhere else to go, he’d be trapped. 

Steeling himself, he made a mad dash for the exit; ducking underneath the door and leaping through the smoke. He stumbled into the wall, his landing not exactly perfect, but he got to the other side in one piece.

The same couldn’t be said for the scientist. Gordon coughed, covering his mouth and edged away from the remnants of the charred human.

With the door completing its cycle and locking him within the corridor, it gave him no option but to keep going. His gaze caught a melted shoe and he quickly closed his eyes, turning away.

Hope had diminished once more. The creatures were already here and it seemed as though the facility’s defences were active and just as deadly. At least that’s what he assumed; he didn’t get a look at the device that killed the man. It had all happened so quickly.

**_ATTENTION: ALL SCIENCE PERSONNEL – REPORT TOPSIDE FOR IMMEDIATE QUESTIONING._ **

Gordon flinched, the announcement spooking him. He was surprised that the system was still working at all, having not heard it for a long period of time. Blunt as the message was, it could only mean one thing.

The military had arrived.

About to continue with haste, his thoughts stopped him in his tracks.

_What do they mean by ‘immediate questioning’...?_

Were they trying to find the person responsible? Were they going to arrest him? He was innocent! He hadn’t done anything wrong – it was an accident and he was just doing as instructed.

He rubbed at his temples with his fingers, trying to quell his torrent of thoughts and the growing headache because of them.

One step at a time, he thought. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. He’d figure out his story when he saw that sky. With determination to see it, he pressed on through the corridor.

Two beams of red lasers, coming from small devices attached to the walls, made him stop. The door behind them, leading to the first warehouse, was wide open. Frowning, he looked ahead, spotting a tripod-legged gun aimed in his direction.

Gordon gasped in alarm, expecting it to fire, but it remained dormant. Relaxing marginally, seeing that he wasn’t in danger _just_ yet, he inspected the lasers again.

_Is this some sort of trap...?_

It certainly seemed that way. A lot of effort had been made to prevent anything from getting past. Unfortunately for the one who set it up, he was going to be undermining it.

Clenching his jaw, Gordon raised his aim and stared down the sights at the inactive sentry. Some well-placed shots in the base circuitry should be enough to render it useless. Sucking in air, he held it and fired.

Three bullets pinged off the body of the sentry, penetrating its armoured shell. It began to whir into life, affirming that being tampered with also activated them, then short circuited. Smoke billowed out from the melting wires, releasing an acrid smell.

Gordon exhaled and lowered his tensed up arms. He nervously waved a hand through the beams, breaking them. Other than a bleep sounding from the devices, nothing happened. He was free to pass and quickly did so, walking through the doors.

Throughout the warehouse floor corpses of alien fauna – previously slain by the turret – lay crumpled and slumped. Most of the victims were crabs, though one of the bullsquids had also met its end. Sadly, it hadn’t been enough to save the scientist it had mostly devoured.

He didn’t hang around, weaving his way through the racks of towering shelves, filled with sealed crates and stacked containers. Gordon’s inquisitiveness piqued even now, passing glances to the contents in storage. Some looked like they hadn’t been moved in years, covered in layers of dust and cobwebs, their purpose lost to time.

Curiously, the double doors at the exit were wide open and his steps slowed when he spotted another blue beam beyond a second fire door. He got as close as he dared to, getting a good look.

It resembled a claymore, painted dark green. A concentrated laser emitted from the large lens in the centre and a red light blinked on the top of it, indicating that it was live. A knot formed in Gordon’s stomach. This wasn’t part of the facility’s defences – someone had _purposely_ put the trip mine there and judging by the markings it wasn’t hard to guess who.

_It must have been for the aliens, right? Maybe they evacuated everyone they could find and sealed it off. We were just late._

He tried to rationalise the issue but he still had to resolve it. Knowing that it wouldn’t take much to set the bomb off, he went back into the warehouse and searched for something easy to transport. He figured a barrel would do the trick; remembering his last problem solving technique.

After hauling a lighter one into the corridor, he lay it down and prepared to roll it. The door would start to close shortly after, so he needed to go as soon as the flames died down.

Exhaling, he slammed his boot into the barrel and sent it careering towards the beam. Just the lightest of touches was all that was needed, being incredibly sensitive and the mine detonated – the force of the explosion reverberating through Gordon’s body and into the warehouse behind him. It deafened him momentarily having stood so close, though he forced his legs to move regardless of his sudden imbalance. He only had a small window to make it through.

Gordon flew through the sprinklers and smoke out to the other side. Chunks of wall and ceiling were now missing, revealing pipe work and wiring that littered the floor along with warped shards of blackened barrel. He stumbled, swaying left and right dizzily and rubbing at his ears. Dulled sound returned to normal volume, the blaring alarm causing him to wince. The heavy thud of the door meeting floor was just about heard under it.

Nursing his pounding head with a groan, he found himself within winding corridors with a clear path mapped through in the form of left open doors. Though strange, he figured this was just the aftermath of the scouting and rescue operation, but something was really beginning to nag at him.

The way the guard looked and the scientist, being so afraid and adamant ‘they’ were coming for them. _Who_ was coming for them, the monsters?

He wasn’t given much time to dwell on it. Two rifts opened up further ahead, shattering the remaining glass windows of a ruined food court. Scouts materialised before him and raised their claws, yelling in garbled tongue.

With a gasp, Gordon darted for cover behind a vending machine as bolts tore through the air, hitting the walls, floor and ceiling. One struck a light, shattering the bulbs and plunging most of the corridor into darkness.

They charged, running right into the stream of bullets he fired when he emerged. Three bullets hit one of the scouts in the head, two penetrating its largest eye and it collapsed to the floor. Its partner was hit in both the neck and heart, falling over the other’s corpse and landing limply.

More green lights flooded the interior of the food court and Gordon ran over to the wall next to the windows for a vantage point. Peering around the frame, he saw two of the scouts search their surroundings whilst chattering to each other. They appeared to be unaware of the fate of their siblings or his presence.

Inhaling sharply, he stepped out of hiding and shot at the closest one until it dropped; four casings hitting the tiles. He was forced to retreat when deadly forks flew his way and the remaining scout barrelled towards the ruined pane. Getting close, it slowed to a stalk, snarling under its breath. Sparks ran through its claws, crunching glass underfoot as it searched for its prey.

Gordon, pressed against the wall, held the gun at point blank and fired as soon as its eye met him. The beast fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Eerie quiet faded back in, the skirmish halted for time being.

Allowing himself to breathe, Gordon strode over the corpse and glanced around the food court. The shutters for the stands were closed and the furniture was either overturned or damaged. Bullet holes and casings were all around the room, indicating a fight, along with splashes of blood that trailed to the rear. It was a mess and he doubted the chances of finding life, but he investigated anyway.

The body of a security guard lay before the first aid station on the wall, blood seeping from underneath his vest. Bowing his head for a brief moment, Gordon uttered a pardon and took what ammunition he had on him – getting two clips from his pouch and a third from the gun left unattended. He would make them count; the creatures were arriving with more aggressive frequency.

He was about to stand and use the station himself when he noticed something was amiss.

Corpses were a terribly common find and most had been the monster’s handiwork, but he saw no claw or bite marks that had caused this guard’s death.

He had been shot. Multiple times in fact.

A shiver ran through him and he hastily backed away from both the body and the station he suddenly didn’t want to be near.

Gordon rushed out of the cafeteria, slipping the clips into his pouches. He worried his paranoia was becoming reality; colleagues and friends betraying and even killing each other for a chance to escape.

_Barney, I hope to god you’re on that surface... I really do..._

The only way for him to go was down. Steep steps took him to a larger, more spacious storage room. Another laser trap had been set up in the alcove, with a sentry facing the foot of the stairwell.

A warning siren from the VOX jolted him out of his concentration. His nerves were frayed and understandably so.

**_ATTENTION: EMERGENCY URANIUM CONTAINMENT TEAM TO SECTOR D. ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE HIGH SECURITY MATERIALS STORAGE FACILITY._ **

As if things couldn’t get much worse. He felt his stomach perform somersaults.

“K-keep going, can’t stop now...” He muttered, trying to keep himself calm.

The sentry fell and sparked after three bullets pinged off its motor and casing, Gordon trying to be quick but careful. He could feel his chances slipping away from him with each passing moment, a cold fear that he could meet a grisly end lingering in the corners of his mind. Tensions were at an all time high.

Stacks of boxes and crates surrounded him, with no obvious exit. There looked to be a way on top of the blockade, which had been set up ahead of time judging by the forklift truck near it, by using some of the smaller trunks on the floor for a boost. Whoever was responsible had assumed none of the aliens would attempt the climb.

Gordon wasted no time, jogging over and stacking the trunks to clamber onto the first of the larger crates. From there, it was a gruelling ascent – most of the containers were far bigger than him and it required both ingenuity and patience (which was growing thin) to conquer them. He was almost at the peak when a green flash lit up the room and gargled cries came from behind him. Panting, he clawed his way up the remainder and ignored the burning in his muscles. He was far too vulnerable to start firing at them now.

He rolled over to the other side, avoiding being hit by jagged green forks, but in his haste to get away sacrificed a safe descent for a short fall. His cry muffled into a grunt, landing on the floor with a loud metallic clang. Groaning and coughing at the wind being knocked out of him, he rolled onto his back.

By the sounds of things, the creatures definitely weren’t deterred by the climb and were managing it just fine. Sure enough, he looked up to see one of them make it to the top, narrowing its eyes at him. It began to climb down with some impressive, agile hops.

Gordon snapped awake, scurrying backwards and trying to find his feet. He reached behind him so to push himself up and something bleeped.

When he looked, his hand was in the middle of a broken red beam. The sentry he hadn’t seen, near where he had landed, powered up. His muscles stiffened and he stared at the spinning barrel like a deer in headlights.

_N-no..._

It vanished behind leathery skin, obscured by the scout that crouched over him upon landing. A claw pressed against his chest, pinning him down with creaks of protest from the carapace. He was pulled out of his terrified trance, faced with a second contender for his life and swung his arm at it in a panic-stricken attempt to get free. Seeing his weakness, it caught the blow and bared its sharp teeth – its talons scraping against the bracer.

A roar was distorted by bullets ripping through its form, the sentry firing upon the scout who had taken his place. Green ichor and gore covered its unlucky victim and the floor, being utterly demolished by the high calibre rounds. To spare himself the gruesome sight, Gordon squeezed his eyes shut, feeling warm wetness spray him in the face.

The turret didn’t stop until the assailant fell, unfortunately onto him. Whilst terribly unpleasant, it gave him a shield and he suppressed every urge to struggle, tricking the sentry into thinking the intruder was no more. He could hear it sweeping the area, searching.

Green lightning hit it before it had a chance to fire again, causing it to explode into shards and smoke. Gordon stayed flat to the floor, avoiding the flurry of sharp, hot metal that penetrated the dead scout’s back like darts. A piece of turret hit and shattered the glass around the emergency fire door release, triggering it to begin sealing the area.

Gordon pushed and rolled the corpse off of him with some effort, making a desperate, rapid crawl to the lowering door. The other scout landed, starting its pursuit. He could hear it getting nearer but his focus was entirely on escape; if he failed he’d be trapped and be as good as dead.

His fingers had just made it under when he felt pressure around his ankle and a sudden force yanking him backwards. His legs fell from under him and he landed on his arms, getting dragged away from the door. Yelping, he clawed at the tiles with one hand, trying to slow it down, the other fumbling the handgun from its holster. He was running out of time.

Rolling onto his side, he fired at the creature and hit it in the shoulder. It howled, releasing him.

He scrambled to the narrowing gap, hearing the snarls of the predator just behind him and pulled himself through it; feeling the door skim his thighs during the pass. Crawling out of reach, he sat on his knees and saw the scout’s claws wedge underneath the door, trying to push it up. When it refused, a bellow came from the other side, the claws retreating and the door sealing shut.

Furious pounding came from the thick metal, echoing around the corridor. Strong they may have been, but they weren’t going to smash their way through that one.

Gordon slumped, catching his breath whilst wiping blood and sweat off his face.

_Too close... Too close..._

Panting and shivering from his very narrow escape, he collected himself by reloading the handgun. The motions, almost second nature now, soothed him. It was one of the few things he could do where he felt like he was in control.

He wasn’t certain how long this relative safety would last. With that thought in mind he was back on his feet, having enjoyed a short reprieve. Weapon primed, he walked to the end of the hall which opened up into a rectangular room.

The floor was slick and wet, trickles of fluid leaking in from a pipe riddled with bullet holes. A dead scientist slumped against it, staining the water a deep crimson. More laser traps barred the way like a precarious mesh over the ever-growing puddle and the elevator doors opposite were jammed open, revealing the dark maw of the shaft behind it.

No matter what he did next, he was setting off the trap. There was no avoiding it this time. With his vision of the turret – or multiple turrets – blocked, he would have to shoot quickly and pray he hit them before they locked on. It was a big ask... Especially with the perilous open pit nearby.

Taking some unsteady breaths, he held it and ran towards the first beam, his legs breaking through and the two turrets powering up. He stayed low, his boots skidding over the thin layer of water, granting velocity whilst aiming for the wall near the open pit. He pivoted and shot into the nearest sentry.

Three bullets hit, a tripod leg crumpling from the impact and the other two hitting the base. The device short-circuited and fell to one side, its rounds hitting the ceiling harmlessly.

Gordon met the wall and pressed against it, the other turret spraying bullets after him. He found a thin alcove he could use for cover, uncomfortably wedging himself inside and waiting for a pause. When it started to sweep back and forth, he leant out and fired at it until it toppled aside. He missed twice due to nerves but the last two hit home.

Sparks, smoke and trickling water were all that was left, leaving the way clear. He exhaled slowly, easing along the wall to keep upright. Dry floor was a welcome relief, as was the fact that he didn’t have to race against a door this time. Free of the danger the red lasers posed, he was eager to leave them behind.

As he stepped through the doorway he spotted a figure standing on a catwalk overlooking the entry. Gordon stared, wide eyed and in disbelief.

The man in the suit stared back.

“Y-you... But... How –“

Wordlessly, the gaunt, pale man adjusted his tie and picked up his briefcase. His cold eyes lingered on him for a few seconds, before he walked off out of sight. Unlike their last meeting Gordon was not so ready to follow after him, unsettled by the reappearance and questioning the logic behind it.

How did he get here before him and remain unharmed? Lewis and the others never mentioned him either.

Was he even _real_? Had the trauma conjured some sort of hallucination, or was he being affected by whatever he’d been exposed to in the test chamber?

Figment of his imagination or otherwise, it beckoned him onward. A single trip mine acted as a warning for whoever dared and with a lack of barrel to spare, he was forced to spend a bullet on setting it off. The resulting explosion shook the floor and blew chunks of concrete into the air, smoke and dust creating a thick cloud. He shielded his face, waiting for it to disperse.

Coughing lightly, he pushed through what lingered and took the first set of stairs to the next level. It looked like some sort of processing area, a few containers seen dotted around the platforms. He paused near the next set, spotting a pile of green, rectangular boxes that stood out from the rest. One of them was open and inside a sentry turret lay in pieces, ready to be assembled.

This was military equipment, but with no military in sight. Where were they?

His speculation had little opportunity to manifest – gunshots came from the end of the catwalk where the suited man had stood. Readying his weapon, he ran towards them. He raced up the stairs, sprinted along the catwalk and flew into the loading bay, coming to a stop at the railings.

In the middle of the floor lay a scientist, blood still running out from underneath his body. Gordon could hear the rattling of a cargo elevator getting further away as he slowly traversed the steps, aiming around the room. Empty.

Lowering his hands, he glanced at the corpse with a grim frown. They had been shot multiple times in the chest and stomach.

Assuming he _wasn’t_ going crazy, the man in the suit came through just a moment ago. Suspicious as he was, Gordon somehow doubted he was responsible... But if he hadn’t done this, who did? 

Whatever answers he hoped to gain, they were beyond that elevator. That was where he needed to go. His very survival depended on it.

He slammed a fist into the call button. The rickety metal platform returned after a short delay, soon rising again with its new passenger. En route to the level above, Gordon distracted himself by checking his ammunition and his equipment, butterflies in his stomach and hands suffering from tremors.

How much more of this could he take?

Slowly, the elevator came to a halt.

The metal railings parted and he cautiously stepped off the platform, aiming left and right. More military crates were piled by the wall, with the facility’s storage moved away from the loading zone. A large depot was before him – huge metal beams supported the ceiling and a series of catwalks and platforms surrounded a central pillar.

“Oh, thank god! Rescue at last!”

Gordon perked up to the voice, his hunt cut short and almost forgotten. A scientist slipped out of hiding from a maintenance closet and jogged towards a group of men near the centre of the chamber. They were armed and wearing camouflaged, tactical gear.

It was the marines!

He was overcome by a mixture of elation and relief. His legs moved without hesitation, carrying him to safety and freedom. The nightmare was finally over! He was getting out of here! He survived!

The men turned to the approaching scientist and raised their weapons.

“Don’t shoot, I’m with the sci –“

Rattles of gunfire smothered his words, the automatic spray cutting him down in an instant.

Gordon’s run broke into a staggered halt, his wide-eyed stare locked onto the lifeless body as it fell to the floor. Everything else was drowned out by the endless thud of impact and the pounding of his racing heart. Shock rooted him in place, his legs becoming lead. It was as if the world had stopped turning and time came to a standstill, compelling him to witness this hope-shattering moment.

He didn’t want to believe it, but the cruel reality was sinking in. The turrets and mines weren’t just targeting the aliens, they were also for _them_. That guard and the scientist hadn’t been victims of anarchy, they had been _murdered_. Even the announcement system was a trap; it wasn’t leading them to safety, it was luring them out of hiding.

They weren’t going to be rescued.

They were all going to die.

_This isn’t happening..._

The marines turned to him next. Each bore a cold, calculating look in their gaze; not a hint of remorse over killing an unarmed, defenceless man. One of them spoke but the words were muffled.

_This can’t be happening..._

They took aim, his breath catching in his throat.

Triggers pulled and bullets flew, decimating the silence.

He didn’t remember doing it but he had turned away from the group and exposed his back, covering his head with his arms.

Whizzing pops broke the air around him, the bullets that connected being deflected by the HEV and ricocheting at acute angles. Startled cries came from the marines, their own ammunition coming right back at them, making them scatter and find cover.

“Cease fire! Cease fire!”

Gordon shook, his eyes tightly closed and teeth gritted. He felt no pain, just mild discomfort from the impacts he’d taken.

_'Power level: 65%'_

He was still alive.

Hearing the HEV speak unlocked his limbs and snapped him out of his acceptance. He picked up the handgun near his feet and dived to safety behind the nearest group of containers. 

Echoes of renegade rounds finding surfaces faded into quiet. Heavy gear shifting gave away the soldiers’ presence; they were looking for him and they weren’t hiding the fact either. Why would they? They had the advantage. 

“Squad, spread out. He’s hiding around here somewhere, flush him out. Do _not_ shoot at that... Thing he’s wearing; clear headshots only.”

Gordon was not only outgunned, he was also severely outmatched. These were trained professionals who knew multiple ways of how to kill someone, unarmed or otherwise. His only ace was the HEV suit and as strong as it was, it wouldn’t protect him forever.

This unfair game of cat and mouse, pitting five against one, was starting whether he was ready or not.

Keeping his rapid breaths as quiet as he could manage, Gordon stayed low and crept around the containers so to get a better position. They formed corridors of their own which was both a boon and a detriment. He couldn’t see where the marines were coming from, relying solely on his hearing. Movement sounded from somewhere in front, then from behind and he feared it was only a matter of time before he was discovered.

His loss of focus could have cost him. He almost didn’t notice the gun barrel emerging from behind the last box on the row.

An involuntary gasp alerted the owner and he quickly squeezed into a narrow gap within the shadow of the stacked crates. Footfalls, louder now, were drawing near. Gordon checked the route he’d used and to his dismay, another was stalking his trail.

They were pincering him. Whatever he did next was going to reveal his position and put him in danger from either side.

_S-shit..._

He had to make a decision and make it quickly. With his finger resting on the trigger, he drew in air and held it.

Rolling off of his shoulder, he came out of cover and into the direct path of the approaching marine; a dangerous thing to do, but his surprise appearance bought him valuable milliseconds. He applied pressure as soon as their eyes met.

Red mist blossomed over their chest, four holes tearing through the protective vest in a close ring. A choked yelp came from the stumbling man, retaliating fire from his comrade forcing Gordon to run past him. He heard the heavy body hit the ground, a swarm of lead pursuing him and putting dents in whatever they touched.

“Man down!”

_I just killed someone..._

Horror threatened to crack the blank mask he imposed on himself and he fought to hold it back. He needed to keep his mind clear or he would meet the same end.

“Surround him! Move in!”

Gordon fled through the maze, hearing orders and call outs but not being able to pinpoint where they were coming from thanks to the echo. He took a turn and began to take another when a single shot flew mere inches from his face and hit the wall on his right, forcing him to retreat.

“Target!”

Another ran out from the way he came, taking immediate aim. Left with nowhere to go, he was funnelled into the next section, bullets leaving holes in his shadow. He couldn’t fight them all at once, not like this.

He was running out of space to run. Chased by the two men, Gordon was pushed down the narrowing path and into a dead end. Or at least that’s how it seemed; he spied a modest gap between two containers that he could just about navigate. His head start got him out of harm’s way and they didn’t seem willing to try and follow.

Something collided with him on his exit and he was thrown off balance. He landed in a crouch to save himself from going down completely, bringing up his aim to where he thought his attacker was.

They were far closer than he thought. A boot kicked the gun out of his hand and the man attempted to beat him over the head with the butt of their weapon.

Gordon raised his arm to protect himself, the hit striking the bracer. The kinetic energy being dispersed by the plates pushed back against the gun, making the man recoil. That was his opening. He launched forwards and tackled the marine with his shoulder, knocking the MP5’s barrel up towards the ceiling. Throwing his full weight against him, the pair collided with the ridges of a sturdy container and fought for control of the firearm.

Everything became a blur of imagery; first a gun, fatigues, then eyes and a sudden whirl of grey – the world spinning. Metal clanged against metal and the tables turned. A knee connected with his gut and an elbow swung into the left side of his jaw. The hit to the head stunned him momentarily and his fingers lost their grip. 

Pulling the gun away and back into rightful ownership, the soldier begun to take aim; seeking to put an end to the brief but intense struggle. As it met his target, he saw a flash of red in the corner of his goggles.

The crowbar collided with his cheekbone and jaw with a heavy, audible crack. Blood sprayed out from between his lips, the gun falling out of his hands and onto the floor. He followed it shortly after, motionless.

Wiping blood from his mouth onto the back of his glove, Gordon thanked whatever was watching over him for that tiny window of a second chance.

Approaching heavy steps urged him to take the MP5 and aim at the marine who got out of the maze first. Instinct taught him how to hold it and how to fire it, a short squeeze being all that was needed at this range. Despite the unfamiliar recoil, the bullets found their mark and coated the panels in red confetti.

Hearing more movement from the other direction, he stumbled into a run.

Lead licked at his heels and whizzing pops flew past his ears. He kept his head low, weaving back and forth to throw them off. Out in the open now, he needed a new place to hide. The centre structure had four wide, cinderblock pillars he could make use of.

His rather haphazard and improvised plan to split the squad up had mostly worked; only two of the squad remained but that didn’t make them any less dangerous. He heard them reconvene when he reached the closest pillar, keeping out of sight behind it. They either didn’t say a word or spoke very quietly and neither were a comforting thought.

There was no indication of movement and when he glanced out to check, the troops were gone.

Something flew past the pillar and bounced along the floor, creating metallic rings on the concrete. Gordon turned to look at the green, notched object that had a shape of a small pineapple, a stream of black, burning smoke trailing out of one end.

Terror threw him into motion, his feet moving without him realising it. As he sprung for the lonely container near the lip of the platform, the grenade exploded, sending out shrapnel, smoke and debris. The soldiers pressed the attack, short bursts pushing him into cover and keeping him pinned.

They were coming, that much he knew, but he couldn’t see from where. The two alternated their suppressing fire, allowing no gaps for him to use.

The smell of gunpowder returned, another grenade rolling near his feet.

Adrenaline pumping and mind racing, Gordon played a desperate gambit; he picked up the grenade and threw it back. It didn’t fly for too long, exploding in midair. He ducked and held his ears, the container groaning and shunting as it absorbed the blast. The gunshots stopped abruptly.

Heat wafted in from around the metal box and dark smoke lingered in the air. Gordon, feeling his eyes stinging, gingerly peeked out.

A badly burnt, fatigue-wearing body lay crumpled on the floor.

Coughing hoarsely and covering his mouth, he scanned through the smog. Where was the other one?

Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a chill ran down his spine.

He turned quickly to see a glint of reflected light from the lamps above and he had to immediately drop the gun so to latch hold of the wrist and arm wielding the combat knife, its tip dangerously close to his neck. The singed, gas mask-wearing marine still had a hand free and he shoved him against the container’s surface, sliding Gordon’s weapon away and out of reach with his foot.

Struggling against each other’s strength, the two wordlessly argued – grunts of exertion and panting the only communication. Their arms shook with tension, the knife being pulled back and forth in small increments. Beads of sweat ran down Gordon’s brow, his gaze focused on the small, serrated edges near the knife’s grip.

Although they appeared to be almost evenly matched, the signs of fatigue were already beginning to show and he didn’t have much surplus energy to start with.

His opponent wasn’t about to wait. A fist jabbed into his stomach, trying to break his defence. Yelling, Gordon gritted his teeth and braced himself for another hit, which swiftly followed the first.

“Nngh!”

“Bastard...” A strained, muffled voice said within the mask.

A third strike sent a jolt of pain through his abdomen, landing on the still tender spot. It drew out a sharp cry and he sensed the knife drawing closer, the tip lightly pressing into the suit’s material.

Despite the severity of his predicament, the end of his life just one slip away, there was temptation to let go. What was the point in fighting now? Everyone was dead or shortly about to be, either by the aliens or the military. Lewis, Dr. Fisher, Dr. Johnson and the others were doomed. All of his efforts were for nothing.

The thought of Barney, Isaac and Eli being lifeless bodies on the surface was heart-wrenching.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way.

“This is for killing my friends, you piece of shit...” The marine hissed, declaring himself the victor.

His words were met with a glare, Gordon’s hopelessness melting away into rising anger. The audacity of being blamed for defending himself, for daring _not_ to roll over and die was just as insulting as a murderer thinking they deserved to have vengeance.

He saw his own enraged expression in the green lenses of the mask, then the eyes of the man behind them widening when his boot firmly struck his unprotected shin. Having been so focused on killing him, his assailant hadn’t prepared for a counter. The armour acted like a hammer with all of the energy put behind it. Something crunched.

Screaming in agony, the marine lost all control of the situation and buckled. Gordon took advantage and wrestled the knife out of his grip, only to be shoved back into the container again. Disarmed and desperate, the man lunged forward and grabbed his neck with both hands, throttling him. Gordon let out a choked gasp, losing his last bit of oxygen and having it cut off completely. He struggled, prying at the thumbs trying to crush his windpipe, his vision blurring and beginning to darken.

Inky droplets coated the inside of the lenses and the suffocating hold loosened. Clamouring for air, Gordon pushed the marine off of him and they fell to the floor with a gurgling wheeze, the knife embedded deep in their jugular. Blood trickled from the puncture as they twitched, rasping moans dampened by the leaking headgear.

“That... That’s for killing mine...” Gordon muttered breathlessly.

Rubbing at his neck and taking steady gasps – interrupted by strained coughs – he pushed away from the scene and went in search of his abandoned equipment.

Everywhere he looked revealed what vile deeds had transpired before his arrival. Bodies of guards and scientists were slumped in different locations throughout the depot, with the recently slain now joining them. Bullet casings and blood stains paved the way back to the first struggle he’d gone through, the crowbar a beacon of stability in this pandemonium.

With sluggish movement he picked it up and retrieved the handgun, securing both onto his person and then took the spare MP5, along with an extra cartridge, for himself. His ammunition pouch and holster were at full capacity, though there was an underlying worry of how long his stock would last against this even deadlier threat.

He looped the strap over his opposite shoulder, keeping the submachine gun in his hands whilst he found his way out. An alarm blared over the speakers mounted on the walls upon leaving the maze, making him tense.

**_ATTENTION: THIS FACILITY IS NOW UNDER MILITARY COMMAND._ **

Gordon’s heart sank. Met with little resistance, the ‘rescue’ force had successfully completed their hostile takeover. He and the other survivors were now caught in the middle of two sides and it was getting harder for him to decide who the real monsters were. No help was coming. They were on their own.

Sighing, he trudged towards the back of the chamber, past the bodies and debris to the stairs leading to the platform above. The dim glow of the first aid and charging stations on the wall nearby, thankfully undamaged in the fire fight, gave him pause.

With both services close together, Gordon was able to comfortably plug in the suit whilst replenishing its morphine supply. He slid down the wall between the units, letting his body rest whilst he still had the chance to. The bleeding from his lip had stopped, leaving a coppery taste on his tongue which he tried to relieve by spitting.

Haunting stares from his fallen colleagues, eyes frozen open from the shock of their demise, accused him. It was his fault. It was his fault that they were dead.

The guilt hurt more than the ache in his jaw and the welts of soreness over his stomach ever could and he buried his face into his palms.

_I’m sorry... I’m so sorry..._

He didn’t understand. These were American marines killing civilians on their own soil. Why?

_“Isn’t it obvious? They don’t want news of this to get out. They don’t want anyone to know what we’ve been doing down here.”_

Was that the reason? Covering up the evidence of the invasion and silencing the witnesses? The seventy-five mile evacuation zone now had a much darker purpose; escaping would be next to impossible without detection. They controlled the whole area and the airspace above it.

What would become of Black Mesa?

“What am I going to do now...?” He asked softly, as if someone would respond.

Radio static disrupted the eerie stillness, alerting him. He snatched the MP5 from his lap and aimed it around warily.

**_<_ ** _Delta-14, check in. Over. **>**_

It was from one of the dead troops. Letting out a relieved breath, Gordon lowered the gun but kept it in his hands. He waited and listened.

_< Delta-14, respond. What is the situation down there? Over.>_

The first aid station bleeped, indicating that it was finished. He reached up and pulled out the connector, staying quiet so he could hear.

_< All squads in Sector D, be aware of incoming hostiles. Possible X-Rays. Over and out.>_

After a final burst of static, the transmission went dead. The charger stopped humming, prompting Gordon to stand and remove the plug, hanging it on the hook.

_'Power level: 85%'_

“Not full, but it’ll have to do...”

He checked himself over. The plating was scuffed and scratched in places, but still structurally sound. Silently thanking the suit for saving his life and keeping him safe, he glanced up to the passage at the top of the stairs, his only route to take.

His thoughts drifted to those he left behind, who were relying on him to get help. He wanted to warn them of the betrayal but he had no way of doing so. Their fates, as well as those dearest to him, were out of his hands. There was nothing he could do.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Frowning, he ascended the steps. He could buy them more time. He could still fix this somehow; there was a moral obligation to try. The deaths of his friends, his co-workers and those around him weighed heavily on his shoulders and whilst he couldn’t bring them back, he could avenge them. If that meant he was going to fight against both human and alien to achieve that goal, so be it.

In the entrance of the corridor, lit by red lamps, Gordon gathered his courage, his resolve and held onto what little hope he had remaining.

The rough concrete walls with flaking paint forming the passage were marked with bullet holes. Bodies of maintenance workers and scientists were crumpled next to walls and forced Gordon to step over them; his eyes focused forward and not straying. The ramped floor was still damp with blood, drying spots sticking to the soles of his boots.

Soon enough the passage widened and opened up into a wide and tall chamber. The platform bridge spanning its length had been hit by falling chunks of ceiling, breaking some of the floor panels and revealing the dark pit under his feet. A second bridge overhead reached across the room’s width, its underside bordered by a network of large pipes.

Strips of sticky membrane dangled from up high, making the already treacherous path worse as they used the gaps as an ideal hunting spot. Not only was he going to have to do some acrobatics to make it to the other side safely, he needed to be sure he didn’t end up caught in their tongues. If he did, it was either become lunch or fall to his death... Not a choice he was ready to make.

Doing his best to conserve his ammunition for what was inevitably to come, Gordon allowed the MP5 to hang from its strap and he shrugged it behind his back. His first obstacle, a modest hop over a meter gap, wasn’t too unnerving providing he didn’t look down. The lazy tongue was too late to react to the vibrations of his landing, only flicking back and forth when he was out of its way. So far, so good.

Now he was underneath the bridge and it was then when he saw how extensive the damage to the catwalk had been. There was no floor to speak of, though one of the pipes above also extended their reach below, creating a precarious, cylindrical walkway for him to use. Unfortunately, the bridge’s underside was also home to two large mouths that had gestated there; one tongue hanging over the pit and the other lapping near the railing on his right.

He would need to go through them.

Gordon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

_You can do this. Slow and careful._

Convincing his feet to move, he edged onto the pipe and used his outspread arms for balance – being very careful not to touch the tongues. The pipe creaked underneath his weight, thrumming gently with each staggered step. One of the membranes coiled and reached around a small radius, forcing him to stop. He had nothing to hold onto, the agape mouth of the shaft patiently waiting for him to fall.

Legs shaking and body wobbling, Gordon stared at the tongue as it got close to his arm. He clenched his fist to give it some stability, the yellow-green strip – glistening in the light – hovering near to investigate. The other tongue that hung in the pit retracted and he could hear it dragging along the pipe behind him. He feared it would find his foot if he didn’t move soon.

After a tense few moments, the tongue in front retracted and moved away. The other was more inquisitive and just relaxing was enough to alert it. He saw it begin to coil and he leapt forward towards a bent strip of metal that had once been a support beam for the floor panelling. Both tongues lashed at the air, trying to catch him.

Gordon got away safely, landing on the beam and grabbing the railings to support himself. It creaked and bent underfoot, pressuring him to keep moving along the remainder of the pipe to one of the few stable pieces of panel left secure. He breathed out a sigh of relief, the final jump much like the first and easily conquered – staying close to the passage walls to avoid being swept up by the last of the cluster. Suffice to say, he was glad to be surrounded by a tunnel again.

At the junction was an already sealed fire door, a path to the left and a path to the right, both in the form of ramps. Two trip mines guarded the left side’s opening and at the bottom of the ramp were an unsettling amount of red lasers criss crossing each other. He couldn’t see the sentry turrets from his position and he didn’t want to warn the other squads of marines of his presence by making noise. The right corridor, however, was free to roam.

He advanced slowly, seeing no movement in the room below. Pressing against the wall, he peeked out and scanned the small loading area. There was no one on ground level or the perimeter balconies, but the conveyor belt used for depositing boxes was still running. A low hum from it gave the still space a foreboding atmosphere, a single metal container hanging from a crane casting a long shadow over the wall.

Suppressing a shudder from a bad memory, Gordon relaxed and looked for a way to progress without the risk of being turned into swiss cheese. With the walls too high to climb and no route to take, the conveyor belt itself was a viable alternative. The chute turned at a 90 degree angle, masking its destination.

There was only one way to find out where it led.

He dragged a box over to the end of the belt and climbed onto it, before awkwardly stepping onto the moving surface. It was like a giant, slow-moving treadmill, but the real challenge was the chute – the tight confines making it difficult to stay upright and keep his speed.

One frustrating struggle later, he made it out and back onto solid ground.

Panting lightly, he looked around his new surroundings; the fire door from earlier bypassed.

A military truck had been parked in the bay, the shutters forced open and damaged. Green wooden crates with serial numbers stamped on them had been piled high in one corner and dead crabs lay crumpled over the floor.

_That explains how some of them got in... Through the tunnel network._

The irony was not lost on him. Not too long ago he was wishing to use that very network to get out. He gave the vehicle a bitter glare, looking to another conveyor system by the stack of boxes. That was far too convenient; they must have used the same method to get around after they sealed the door.

Not being given much of a choice, he began to clamber up the sturdy pile.

**_ATTENTION: TURRET MAINTENANCE TEAM TO COMMAND AND COMMUNICATION CENTRE._ **

Gordon hopped from the peak to the platform opposite before making headway on his second workout along the next, far longer belt.

It felt like it would never end. He dragged himself through the chute using his hands, trying to stay moving so he didn’t lose ground. The dim light at the end slowly grew closer, the room coming into view.

His fingers grabbed the edge of the chute and he hauled himself out, jumping off the conveyor before it could pull him back inside.

“What the...?”

Gordon looked up to the sound of the voice. A single marine, at his post behind a pile of sandbags, was staring right at him from across the walkway separating his side of the platform from theirs. The brief state of surprise passed, realisation hitting both men and they drew their weapons at the same time, racing to be the one who shot first.

The marine was faster, releasing a burst of fire in his direction. Gordon threw himself behind some stacked boxes, disrupting their line of sight. The suit took a couple of glancing blows, the rounds bouncing away from him and creating loud pings when they hit the ventilation duct overhead.

Staying low, he shuffled along the floor, changing his position. A warning shot penetrated the wooden planks and sent splinters into the air, trying to frighten him into making a mistake. When that didn’t work they fired again, then again, their aim getting a little too close for comfort. Keeping his head down, Gordon blindly rummaged in an opened, green crate.

_Come on, come on! Give me something – anything!_

He pulled out a piece of sentry turret, he wasn’t sure what. It didn’t matter. He tossed it towards a stack of crates away from him, making enough of a clamour to be heard over the firing. Believing he was there, the marine peppered them with holes and left himself open.

Distraction successful, Gordon rose from his cover and gently squeezed the trigger. It was a direct hit. The body hit the wall, smearing it with blood, and then sank behind the sandbags.

Gordon relaxed, finally allowed to catch his breath. He approached the grated walkway and glanced into the trench below. It was the laser-riddled corridor, with two inactive sentries waiting within. Leaving it for the moment, he crossed over to the marine’s impromptu camp. There wasn’t much to look at, just some basic supplies, a little stock of ammunition and a radio.

He glanced at the man he had killed and felt a stab of remorse, even though he knew better. This wasn’t right. _None_ of this was right.

_Survive, Gordon. Whatever it takes._

Tensing his jaw, he knelt down to the soldier and with some effort unbuckled the pouch-laden belt from around their waist. He slipped it around his own, albeit a little less neatly and secured it in place. Two of the pouches were heavy, prompting him to check. A grenade sat snugly inside each.

Now he could even the playing field.

He took out one of the grenades, looking it over nervously. With the turrets just below, this was a perfect time to practice.

“Just... Just pull and throw, right?”

Gordon hooked a finger through the pin and held his breath. A tug and squeeze of the lever released the pin and he immediately tossed it into the trench, a trail of black smoke following its arc. After five seconds it exploded, tearing the sentries apart and scattering their remains.

His ears were ringing but he considered that a success. That and not blowing _himself_ up by accident.

With the smoke from the sentries and grenade thinning, he climbed down into the corridor and ignored the bleeping red beams broken by his landing. A closed fire door was all that stood in his way. Readying himself, he disengaged the lock.

The heavy door raised steadily, red lights flashing and lighting up the dingy tunnel. He was preparing for trouble when he saw the two beams of blue light coming from cleverly positioned trip mines, but what he didn’t expect was a sentry in the middle of them. It whirred up immediately, already active.

He hid in the corner, the turret firing into the corridor and tearing up the walls and floor. It looked like he was going to have to use the last grenade prematurely. Regretful but at least it would destroy all of the hazards in one go. Taking out the grenade, he waited for the turret to stop and once it did, the pin was removed and the grenade was tossed inside. He covered his head and ears, gritting his teeth.

The resulting explosions rocked the place; fire, debris, metal and remnants of turret flew out of the door.

Coughing and waving through the smoke, Gordon strode over fallen chunks of wall and pitted tiles. He was still hearing the boom, the intensity of the blast making his head spin. So much for being quiet – all of the facility probably knew he was here now.

He staggered around the wall and shook his head to try and regain some clarity, almost jumping out of his skin when two scientists burst out of a door a few feet away. They didn’t notice him, running into the crane-filled warehouse directly ahead.

“It’s this way! We’re close now! Come on!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Gordon gave chase, trying to stop them.

“Wait, don’t! It’s a trap!”

The first either didn’t hear him or ignored him, but the second one slowed and looked back.

“Wh-what? What are you talking ab—“

His words were interrupted by gunfire and he turned to see his friend fall, dead before he even hit the floor. Screaming, he stumbled backwards and turned to flee, only to get shot himself. He choked out of a gasp, stumbling before his legs gave out from under him.

“No!” Gordon cried, catching the scientist and pulling him into cover behind the wall.

He groaned weakly, hanging in his arms. Gordon gently lowered him down and sat on his knees.

“Stay with me! I can...”

He trailed off, seeing the severity of his injuries.

Holes marred the middle-aged man’s uniform, centred over the lower back and ribs. He was rapidly losing blood. Wheezing and shaking, his face lost all colour and contorted in pain. Wavering brown eyes drifted up to Gordon and he grabbed his arm.

“S... Sa...”

“D-don’t speak...” Gordon said softly, placing a gloved hand over his.

He coughed up blood, gasping and struggling to breathe. His grip got weaker and he gathered what strength he had left to speak, blood pooling under him and soaking his clothes.

“Sa... Save... U... Us... P-please...”

Gordon swallowed his welling emotions. He felt utterly helpless. With a solemn expression, he slowly nodded.

“I... I will. I promise.”

The scientist’s breathing became shallow, a faint gurgling accompanying it. Heavy lids closed, blood trickled out of his mouth and he fell silent. His hand slipped away, the arm now limp and Gordon caught it so to rest it carefully beside him, noticing the gold band on his finger. He was married.

Gordon grimaced, lowering his head. Another victim, another life he couldn’t save. If only he had been faster.

Sorrow would have surely kept him there, had he not heard the faint radio chatter coming from around the corner. The threat was still very real.

Getting to his feet, Gordon gave one final look to the dead scientist before directing a hate-filled glare towards the warehouse. He took the MP5 in his hands, flicked the safety off and strode forward with vengeful purpose.

He was about to become public enemy number one.

Gordon stepped over the corpse of the other scientist and slipped into cover behind a stack of boxes, taking a moment to scout the tall space filled with ascending, spiralling walkways. In the centre, above the ground floor was a loading crane, a steel container hanging from it. A second crane jutted out from the back wall, higher than the first, halted in the process of lifting its load. On the left was a tall platform – too high for him to climb onto without revealing himself – and the only way to it was a single stairwell.

He could see why they had chosen that as their vantage point. The ground floor was a kill box and anyone or anything that wandered into it would be ambushed. Bodies of staff were lined up against the right wall, riddled with holes just like the bricks. Executions had taken place here previously and neither age nor gender was taken into account. Gordon closed his eyes and forced himself to look away.

_Jesus Christ..._

It terrified him but the anger he felt over their deaths prevented him from backing down. Trying to keep his mind clear and his eyes from wandering, he moved out of cover and stuck to the left wall. He needed the element of surprise to give him an edge against the unknown number of soldiers and so made efforts to be quiet. His steps were slow and he kept his breathing shallow.

Above him, somewhere, radio chatter resumed.

_< This is November-Echo 2, we’ve secured sector Gamma-5, over.>_

_< Understood. Proceed as planned, over.>_

“What do you think got Delta 14?” He heard one of the men ask, making him stop.

“No idea. Those _things_ I guess?”

“But we secured all of that, I don’t get it. Where the hell are they coming from?”

Frowning, Gordon continued. They had no suspicions of someone else being involved and he was going to use that to his advantage. He was almost at the base of the stairs when he heard heavy steps thudding against metal, prompting him to hide underneath them. Someone was moving overhead and their steps rang threateningly close. He held his breath, watching the metal panels vibrate with the marine’s weight.

The light above the stairs was broken by a boot, then another, the descending shadow smothering his shelter. They were patrolling and coming to the ground floor. Wide-eyed, Gordon followed the movements and shrank into the dark.

Unaware of the intruder, the marine left the stairs and walked around them. Gordon tensed, afraid to breathe and he watched the soldier gradually be revealed again from behind the beam of the stairwell. He was lit up more than he wanted to be and the HEV wasn’t exactly made with stealth in mind. Against his better wishes, he prepared to fire.

They stopped when they reached the tallest point of the stairwell, in full view and only feet away and turned away from him to face the room, leaving their flank exposed.

Carefully, Gordon lowered the gun and allowed it to hang by his side, sliding the crowbar out of the holster. He had to be slow so to avoid making noise – the tiniest sound could expose him from this distance – and it was painfully tense. He didn’t know how long he had before the marine would move on or turn and see him.

He crept forward, inhaling shallowly through his mouth and tasting the copper, engine oil and sweat lingering in the air. His grip tightened around the stained tool and his heart hammered in his ears with building stress. The soldier was none the wiser, having no idea of what lurked behind him and remained oblivious to it.

Gordon closed the gap between him and his target after what felt like minutes, staring at the back of his helmet. He held his breath, reaching with one hand and bringing the crowbar closer with the other.

He only had one shot. He couldn’t afford to mess it up.

By the time the marine noticed the crowbar in his peripheral, it was too late.

Springing upon him, Gordon pulled the tool against his neck and covered his mouth with his hand; muffling a choked cry. He was dragged into the dark space under the stairs, dropping his weapon and struggling wildly against his attacker. The equipment made him heavy and cumbersome, but a determined tug and a knee in his lower back compelled him to come along.

Gordon’s back bumped into the wall, fighting to keep the other man still. He wrapped a leg around one of his and pushed his bicep into the curve of the hook to apply more pressure. Strained noises were stifled by his glove, lingering warmth of dying breath felt through the fabric.

Doctor Freeman closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t a killer. He convinced himself over and over even as the flailing hands feebly smacked at his arms and his face.

Eventually the struggles ceased.

Lowering the body to the floor, Gordon tried to keep himself composed. Adrenaline was making his hands shake and he had to keep flexing his fingers whilst he scavenged what he could from the dead marine. A couple of grenades were on his belt and that paved the way to the next stage of his assault.

“Hey, O’Riley, you alright down there?”

It was now or never.

Slipping the crowbar away, he took the explosives and darted out of his shelter. He tugged the pin out of one and tossed it over the railing barricading the platform. It made tiny rings as its metal casing hit the floor.

“What the fu—“

The explosion cascaded throughout the warehouse, creating one hell of a racket. Yells and cries from the blast came from the platform and startled voices called from seemingly everywhere above him.

“What the hell was that?!”

“We got hostiles!”

“I see him!”

Gordon turned sharply and saw a man looking at him from a balcony. As they took aim, he quickly ducked under the stairwell again; bullets sparking against the metal steps. He hid, keeping his head shielded and waited for a break in fire.

“Bottom floor!”

“Moving!”

Unable to see him enough to take a good shot, the suppressing fire delayed. That was his chance. He raced to the closed blast door below the balcony, dodging lead and tugging out the pin. Once he was close enough, he came to a halt and threw the grenade up and over the ledge. He took cover in the door’s alcove, arming himself.

A second explosion rattled the warehouse and by the sounds of the multiple explosions which followed, had started a chain reaction from flammable oil. Pieces of metal railing rained down onto the ground floor, along with rubble and a charred body. Gordon coughed, an acrid smell hitting the back of his throat as smoke and fire billowed from the damage he’d caused.

“Holy shit! Call for backup!”

He pressed the attack, using the black fog as a screen and ascended the stairs. What was left of the two marines he heard earlier lay around the displaced sandbags once used as a foxhole. With no one to stop him from continuing, he ran up the next set and made it to the metal walkway overlooking the kill box.

“There he is!”

Skidding with an abrupt turn, he retreated for shelter and found it behind a wall next to a conveyor belt. On the opposite side were the rest of the group; two on a high catwalk near the ceiling and another behind a crate on his level. They fired, bullets chipping away at concrete and scratching into steel.

“Command, this is Delta 10 – we have an unknown hostile in our sector! Repeat – unknown hostile in sector Delta-7! We’ve got multiple casualties!”

_< Delta 10, this is Command. Is the hostile alien?>_

“Negative! Hostile is human, heavily armed! Requesting backup immediately!”

_< Affirmative. All units in sector Delta; be advised of hostile personnel and assist Delta 10 in neutralising.>_

“Crap...” Gordon muttered, turning his head away from dust and rubble crumbling from his shield.

This was a bad place to be in if reinforcements arrived. He needed to go and he needed to go now.

He shuffled along the wall to the other side, peeking around it. He couldn’t see the one behind the crate from there, but he could see the other two. Leaning out of cover, he fired a few warning shots, not anticipating to hit them from this distance but it would make them move. They ducked out of sight to preserve themselves and he used that time to try and get past the one closest.

Angling the gun around the wall, Gordon blindly fired a small stream along the walkway. A yelp signified his tactic had worked and after a cautious glance, darted out of cover and sprinted towards the crate the marine was hiding behind. It was crazy. He was running directly into the line of fire, made only more apparent when the two re-emerged on the walkway.

He dropped to a slide, metal grinding on metal and the plates of the HEV sparking under him. He came to a stop at the crate, bullets skimming over the edge of where he hid. They couldn’t risk friendly fire by shooting the box directly and the marine on the other side couldn’t move in case he was shot.

Panting quietly, Gordon listened. He could hear the two on the walkway moving around, searching a better angle. They took pot shots to keep him pinned and he was beginning to think he had screwed himself; the platform on the left was facing his position and they were heading right for it. There was nowhere to run.

What they hadn’t noticed, however, was the oil barrels on the very same platform. He just had to time it right.

“Go, flank him!”

The two came into view and they may have been surprised to find their target wasn’t aiming back at them. One shot was all it took.

Fire erupted outwards and took over the ledge, the explosion twisting and collapsing the metal panels. Pieces of railing peeled apart and scattered like rain to the floors below. Gordon shielded his face from the heat and shards of barrel, feeling fragments whizzing past him and bouncing off the suit.

Lowering his arms, he gingerly rose from hiding to check on the marine behind the crate. A large piece of shredded metal had buried itself in his chest, not coming off as lightly as he did with his protection. He tore his gaze away, sluggishly walking to the other side whilst checking the gun’s ammunition. It was over half full.

For the moment the coast was clear. He climbed the final set of stairs and walked to the opening near what was left of the floor. Another corpse of a scientist was found inside, seemingly having fled from the corridor he was heading down into.

Gordon remained silent, treading lightly and keeping his aim steady. The corridor opened out to a suspended bridge similar to the first, lacking the destruction but not the barnacles. Bones, viscera and a high heeled shoe covered in slime were all that remained of the doomed.

This time there was no need for complicated acrobatics, only careful movement and lead. He killed one to make it easier, using up his remaining pistol clip and reloaded. He sidestepped around the sticky streamers and gave them a wide berth, listening to their unsettling, guttural snarls and gurgling innards. Suppressing a shiver, he made it to the other side.

The quiet, worryingly clean corridor brought him to a storage silo. It was the largest area he had been in so far and just by standing within the mouth of the entrance he could tell it probably dwarfed the previous warehouse.

He took a few wary steps inside, observing his surroundings. A very exposed bridge connected his side of the catwalk to the other and whilst he couldn’t see what was below just yet, he already had a horrible feeling.

**_LOCKDOWN ENGAGED._ **

Gordon flinched, looking behind him. The door closed and cut off his exit. He was trapped.

“Wha—“

“We got him! Go, go!”

To his horror, he had walked right into an ambush.

He turned, seeing two marines running out onto the bridge and they began to fire. Yelping, Gordon ducked behind some crates by the railings and used them as a shield. Another soldier on the opposite side of the pit fired upon his cover, splintering the corner of the crate he hid next to. The weak boxes weren’t going to protect him for very long.

Adjusting his crouch, he leant out and sprayed along the bridge whilst the two closing in were unprotected. It lacked precision, but the amount he bullets he fired meant it didn’t matter. The first staggered into the railing and fell over it to meet the hard floor underneath and a cry came from the other as they dropped. He didn’t check to see if they were dead – it was enough that they weren’t firing back.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

More shots came from the opposite side, shattering what remained of the other box. That was his cue to leave, he figured. He bolted, crossing the bridge.

“Movement!”

“There he is! Fire!”

Rounds punched the air on all sides and he felt some of them connect with the suit. He shielded his head with one arm, fleeing to the safety of the less exposed walkway and barrelling into the marine that cut him off. They both collided with the wall, neither enjoying a soft landing.

Gordon stumbled, the hit taking the wind right out of him and he paid for it with a kick in the chest. Letting out a grunt, he was knocked into the pillar behind and dropped his empty weapon. The marine swung the butt of his MP5 at his head and narrowly missed, smacking stone instead of skull as he dodged to the right. Not letting him get away that easily, the soldier’s boot rose and caught his left leg, offsetting his balance and making him fall over.

With his opponent grounded, the marine took aim... Only to have it disrupted by a shot to the leg. He screamed out in pain, buckling, before being silenced by two more bullets in the chest.

Gordon winced, lowering the Glock; its barrel smoking.

He got to his feet, retrieving his own MP5 and looping it over his shoulder once more. There was no time to reload it, a grenade skipping over the railing.

Forced to run from the explosion which collapsed some of the walkway, Gordon was back in the open. He gave himself covering fire with the pistol as he looped around the catwalk and double-timed it down the stairs, preventing the remaining soldiers from getting a direct shot. Hearing his steps, the two marines leant around the central pillars they had retreated to, returning fire.

“Agh!” Gordon yelped as something pinged off his arm, making it to the nearest pillar.

Bullets ate away at the surface of the cinderblocks, giving off irritating dust that made it hard to see. He glanced to the large crate next to the pillar and snuck behind it, letting the pair believe he was being suppressed. Peering around the box, he sighted one of them. 

He took aim and squeezed the trigger in quick succession, planting four bullets into his target’s flank. The marine dropped like a stone.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

Ejecting the spent clip, he loaded another and pulled the slide back. He was about to scan for the other marine when something bounced off the crate and landed on the floor. The distinct smell of gunpowder made his gut knot.

He scurried away and stumbled into a run, the explosion’s force knocking against his back. Bullet spray chased after him and he used the row of shelving racks as impromptu barricades, covering his head. When he passed the last one, he darted for the pillar at the far end of the silo and hid behind it.

Gordon was out of breath and almost out of stamina. He gasped for air, feeling his legs and arms burning. Whilst he took a moment to recuperate, something caught his eye.

In the corner adjacent to the pillar was an opening to a large freight elevator, but it was the words painted above that made the painful exhaustion suddenly seem worth it.

‘SURFACE ACCESS.’

He’d found the way out.

“Got you, asshole.”

Gordon blinked, drawn out of his daze and glancing to the left. The marine had caught up to him and the barrel of their gun was aimed at his head.

“Drop it.”

He flicked the safety on the pistol, dropping it to the floor and raising his hands. The other man made a subtle gesture with his chin.

“Move.”

Complying, he moved away from the pillar and slowly backed up. He was still in a state of surprise, having not heard him coming. The discovery of his escape had made him careless. His captor stepped over the discarded handgun and approached him slowly, rage visible in both his expression and body language. He was barely holding it together.

“No more bullshit. Killed a lot of good men out there, you piece of shit... Some of them were my friends. You’re gonna regret each and every one you killed before I’m done.”

The venom in his voice was palpable. His mind raced to come up with a plan and he was coming up short. Eventually his back met the wall and he couldn’t go any further.

“How many shots will it take until that get-up of yours stops protecting you, huh? Shall we find out? I got a lot of fucking ammo.”

The marine took aim and Gordon felt his heart hammer against his ribs. These were not ‘good men’, not by his definition, but he lost his will to argue and his ability to speak.

He was about to look away and close his eyes, but a strange glistening in the lamplight drew his gaze slightly above his executioner. The yellow-green tongue descended, lured by his voice causing vibrations in the air. It must have been dormant until the fight broke out, hidden in the recesses of the ceiling vents.

It all happened so fast. The tongue latched around the marine’s throat and hauled him up immediately. He choked and fired wildly in panic, Gordon darting aside to avoid getting hit. Out of harm’s way, he stared at the ascending man’s flailing form until he disappeared, distant crunches announcing his demise.

Ironically, the creature had saved his life.

Gordon let out a sigh of relief and wiped sweat off his brow, moving to retrieve his handgun. Not wanting to tempt fate again, he swiftly got onto the elevator and hit the button; feeling it rumble and rattle underfoot as it climbed the tall shaft to the surface. He disposed of the MP5’s empty magazine and slapped in a new one, keeping his hands busy and his mind occupied.

He was running on adrenaline, morphine and fear. The food, water and rest he’d enjoyed back in the office complex felt like a distant memory. All he could taste was ash, blood and smoke.

The light at the top of the shaft flickered and a loud rumble shook the walls and the elevator, snapping him out of it. He stumbled, grabbing the railing to keep his footing. Dust trickled from the ceiling and tiny stones that had broken away clattered onto the metal floor, yet the machinery pulled through and kept its passenger aloft.

Swallowing dryly, Gordon prepared himself for the worst.

A violent shake caused the elevator to judder as it made it to the top, the chain link doors screeching open slowly. Gordon helped them along with a shove of his shoulder, urgently abandoning the platform in case it gave out.

Shafts of daylight from angled windows in the roof of the hangar bathed the floor and offered a captivating glimpse of deep blue sky. The building’s very foundations groaned with further tremors, years of gathered desert grit cascading from its metal frame.

When the quaking eased, the facility’s air raid sirens came through. It was a haunting sound he had hoped to never hear outside of emergency drills. What the hell was going on out there?

There was no opportunity to dwell on it; human shadows approached from the entrance and hid around a parked truck. Gordon darted behind a forklift and kept his head down.

“Suppressing fire!”

Sparks flew as bullets burrowed into the chassis, some penetrating through to the other side. The two soldiers alternated their fire, trying to lock him down. He crawled away from the increasingly vulnerable vehicle and took shelter amongst the boxes it was loading.

The hangar’s roof ruptured with a loud crash, shattering the windows around the point of impact. Pieces of support frame crumbled away and onto the asphalt, crushing whatever was underneath. Shelves toppled over, boxes collapsed and lighting fixtures were yanked loose and brought down. Gordon screamed involuntarily, cramped into his hiding place. Were they trying to bring the whole building down on top of him?!

Humming of rotor blades escalated into a powerful, overwhelming vibration; tremendous downward force rattling the weakened roof. The shadow of a large aircraft soared past, causing a temporary blackout.

_You can’t stay here – you need to get out!_

Convincing his stiffening legs to move, Gordon appeared from his cover and held the trigger. He hit one of the marines whilst they searched for him, gaining retaliation from the other. Ducking again, he felt the metal casing of the boxes struggle to withstand the punishment. If they threw a grenade he was in dire trouble, assuming the roof didn’t fall on him first.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed off the boxes and ran – spraying bullets as he went. He clipped the marine in the arm, but it didn’t prevent them from hitting the suit a few times.

_'Warning: HEV power level below 50%'_

Another explosion decimated what little stability the roof clung to, sheets of metal and twisted beams collapsing all around him. Gordon watched for incoming debris, swerving left and right and hopping over what he couldn’t avoid. He thought he heard a cry from the soldier he left behind, but it was drowned out by crashing, screeching and clanging. Either way, they did not follow him.

He sprinted through the open shutter, slowing to a halt on the road.

In a normal time there would have been security personnel manning the watchtowers overlooking the small patch of desert land, surrounded by red rocky cliffs. Now, the guards lay dead, along with anyone else unlucky enough to find their way out here. Bordering the end of the road was a high security fence and behind the nearest watchtower was a sealed entrance to the tunnel network.

Dry air blew against his face and the hot sun threatened to bake him alive in the metal suit. He had fought so hard to experience it again and yet...

The roar of rotors returned and the ground under his feet trembled along with it. At its uncomfortable peak, the Osprey hovered above him at engagement altitude and he could spot the soldiers inside pointing him out with the mounted gun.

Gordon scattered, heavy rounds kicking up concrete and sand as they followed him. He skidded into the shadow of the watchtower, putting it between him and the aircraft. Unable to acquire a target, it began to circle around the area.

That wasn’t the only bad news. Whistles in the air, barely heard over the whirr of the engine came to an explosive climax; pummelling the front of the hangar and the earth around it. They were mortar shelling the area and presumably trying to kill him at the same time. He whimpered, shrinking away from the blasts – pieces of metal, road and earth became waves of shrapnel to be violently thrown against the structure. It was like being an ant trapped in a sandbox, trying to avoid being crushed.

He caught movement in the corner of his eye and looked towards the opening tunnel doors. Troops charged through them and suddenly made the situation ten times worse.

“Move in! Get into position!”

_Give me a damn break, please!_

Gunfire hailed down on his very exposed location and he quickly slipped around the wall, moving to the south side of the tower. He traded one threat for another, putting himself within sight and range of the mortar nest hidden in the cliffs. Options were rapidly running out. There were too many of them and the helicopter was already coming back.

The whistling returned. He looked up to the sky and saw arcs of thin smoke, rays bouncing off the ordinance casing. They were heading his way.

Bullets scraped at his back, the suit getting caught by the soldiers spotting him as he dived out of cover but that was nothing compared to being hit with a bomb. He threw himself behind a large rock formation, curling into a ball.

Plumes of dust were launched into the air and fountains of earth pelted him with rubble, small stones thudding uncomfortably against the carapace. The sheer magnitude of the close proximity explosions sent tremors through his body and their intense volume pounded at his skull. It was overwhelming. Vision darkening and ears ringing, he was on the brink of falling unconscious.

 _'Adrenaline administered. Evacuate area immediately.'_ The HEV mumbled.

_Get up! GET UP!_

The shot gave him the burst of energy he needed to push through the trauma and get back onto his feet. His breaths shallow, he dragged himself up and clung to the rocks with shaking hands for support. He slumped against the rough surface with a groan, the muffled droning of the Osprey gaining clarity and getting louder. A tiny red light was spotted through his haze and he blinked to clear the blur away.

Across the yard was a low structure that resembled a bunker.

“Can you see him?!”

It was his last chance.

Gordon put everything he had into a sprint, the floor swaying like a rough sea. He aimed the MP5 with his right hand whilst his left assisted in keeping his balance. He held down the trigger, bullets swarming at the men encroaching on his position and making them back off.

Mortars coming in from the other side of the valley created columns of fire and smoke, the impacts causing him to stumble though failed to slow him down. The Osprey’s gun chased him without relent and he was just barely staying out of its reach. He fired shorter bursts behind his back in an attempt to keep the soldiers at bay, unable to hear their shouts over the helicopter.

The MP5 clicked, running dry.

_'Ammunition depleted.'_

He tore the strap from his shoulder and threw the weapon aside, concentrating on running. The marines were closing in, the Osprey was right on top of him and the mortars were coming down hard.

Gordon dropped to a slide in order to grant him a small boost of life-saving speed. He broke through the dust kicked up by the chaos and made it into the safety of the bunker, concrete crumbling as it took the punishment meant for him.

He didn’t see the hole until the last moment. Unable to stop his momentum, his legs slipped into it and he soon followed them.

“No-no-no – no! AH!”

Hands caught one of the rungs and he slammed against the ladder, his boots finding surface. He saved himself, but the drop only continued when the mortars broke through the roof of the bunker, destroying the top of the shaft. An avalanche of stone collided with the ladder, bringing it down with him still on it. He plummeted into the dark.

“AHHHH!”

The ladder collapsed and bent in on itself, breaking his fall. The harsh landing threw him off and away from the area below the shaft, preventing the rubble that tumbled in after from completely burying him. Choking dust filled the tight tunnel, obscuring the weak, flickering lights.

Gordon coughed and groaned, wafting the rolling cloud away from him. The siren was quieter now, as were the rumbles, but they still made the underground corridor shake. It didn’t look it, but this was probably the safest place he could be at the moment. He wriggled from underneath the thin layer of debris, freeing his legs.

With a wince, he got to his feet. The HEV’s lamp activated, combating the darkness the tiny bulbs struggled to penetrate. His breaths heavy and wheezing, he took slow steps forward and pulled the crowbar into his hand for reassurance. A more violent shake prompted him to grab hold of the wall, dust from shifting stone being caught in the flashlight beam. Once it settled down, he continued.

A worn sign on the wall pointed out that he was on track to the central ventilation access. He hoped it would give him a route that avoided another run-in with heavy artillery. It was a short walk through the foreboding corridor until it began to widen out. Maintenance tools and lockers took up most of the space, not providing anything helpful, but he did find what he was looking for.

He began to approach the large vent set in the wall when an almighty crash from above made him yelp. The cover was thrown off by the force of the blast that not only demolished the duct behind it, but turned the entire shaft into a steel and stone waterfall. It was reduced to a precarious, ruined pit in moments.

The thrumming of rotors reverberated into the hole. Gordon, increasingly terrified, jogged to the vent and saw the still-smoking fracture in the ceiling. The Osprey lowered, hovering over it and choking out the sunlight. Cables were tossed down and shortly after, he spotted soldiers attaching themselves to them and preparing for descent.

They hadn’t stopped hunting him yet.

Using what minimal wall he had as cover, he secured the crowbar and pulled the shotgun into his hands.

“Go, go!”

_Wait..._

He heard the cables strain, the heavily-geared troops lowering towards him.

_Wait..._

“Entry point spotted, lowering.”

_Now!_

Gordon pressed off the wall and stepped into view, aiming the shotgun at the pair. They raised their guns at him but it was too late. He fired once, killing the one closest instantly and sending them over the edge. The other screamed, their arm caught in the spread and throwing off their aim. He reloaded, firing again and their lifeless body joined the first, the cables falling with them.

Now they knew he was there. More cables were thrown from the Osprey and there was a definite risk of being overrun. He climbed into the pit, finding a perch of torn steel that was once floor and searched for a way down. It was higher than he anticipated. There was nothing but slivers of platform, fire and choking smoke. Vertigo hit him and he lost his nerve.

_You have to jump, Gordon! If you don’t, you’ll be killed!_

Closing his eyes, he slung the shotgun over his shoulder. He stepped forward and jumped across the pit, aiming for a slab of concrete held up by twisted pieces of rebar. It was an unsteady landing and he stumbled into the wall, catching himself with his hands.

“Lowering!”

He fought his stiffening legs and got them to turn him around. From his new spot he spied a weakened but still standing ladder through the smog. Before his fear could make him second guess, he leapt over to it and clung to the rungs. It creaked and sank with his weight, threatening to give way at any moment.

“Ngh!”

Not wanting to experience falling again, he held either side and slid, watching the soldiers rappel through the hole. His boots hit the tiny island at the bottom, not giving him much room to move. An open vent beckoned him from across the pit and at its mouth was a small ledge of torn metal. He pressed against the ladder, took a deep breath and flung himself over as stray bullets hit the walls. The hefty impact on the warped surface caused it to bend and snap.

Gordon gasped, starting to fall. In a last ditch effort to save himself, he dived towards the hole. His top half landed within the shaft and his legs kicked below him, struggling to find grip. The smooth steel made it hard to hold onto and his fingers were slipping.

“Gh... C-come on...”

His location made him an awkward target to hit for the marines above, but they were going to figure it out before long. Panting, he pulled the crowbar free and hammered the hook against the metal, denting the surface but not penetrating it. He needed to hit it harder.

The suit’s weight pulled him back, giving him horrid flashbacks of the hanging containers.

“Come – on!” He growled in frustration, putting more strength into his swing.

This time the hook dug in, giving him a firm handle. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled his body inside the duct, scurrying out of sight just as a storm of bullets shredded the entrance. After yanking the crowbar free he crawled as fast as he could, not looking back.

The sounds of sirens, helicopters and explosions had faded into blissful silence.

Cool air lingered on his skin and ran through his hair, rousing him from his rest. His eyes flickered open and for a moment he had forgotten where he was. He was surrounded by a wide tomb of dull metal. The HEV’s beam lit up the wall he was facing, a trio of cockroaches bathing in the heat it granted.

Gordon lay on his side, the crowbar – his constant companion – resting next to him. He couldn’t recall how he got to this point or if he made the conscious decision to stop. In his desperation to get away he had pushed his body to the absolute limit and then just that little bit more. The threshold was met, the adrenaline wore off and finally he succumbed to exhaustion.

“How long was I out...?” He muttered, rubbing at his face.

He grabbed the crowbar and pushed himself up stiffly with a groan. It may not have been the most comfortable sleep but he felt a little better for it. If only he could quench his thirst! His mouth was drier than the arid desert he had escaped.

Sadly that would have to wait. He needed to find a way out of here, wherever ‘here’ was.

Judging by the breeze, which was getting stronger the further he crawled, he was getting close to the main fan for the ventilation system of the sector.

But he didn’t expect it to be _that_ big.

In the centre of the room-sized duct was a blur of spinning blades. A thin metal beam trailed below the hole he was inside, bordering the fan with a foot or two of clearance. It provided a risky yet suitable path to an open duct close by.

He shuffled around and lowered his legs, easing himself down onto the beam. Its lack of surface area required him to turn his feet sideways and hug the wall. The blades were too close for comfort but with careful foot placement and slow shuffles he was getting past them. Vibrations from the fan’s high speed and the gust it created caused the shaft to quiver. It made for an unpleasant sensation; numbness seeped into his fingers and toes and his view was reduced to a squint.

Gordon awkwardly turned to face the vent and lowered to a crouch whilst keeping a straight posture. The HEV did not make this easy but with diligence he conquered the puzzle. He climbed inside with a sigh of relief.

A short crawl brought Gordon to a junction, granting him a choice of going right or straight. He chose right, following the winding duct that turned a number of times until straightening out.

Back into the facility he went. He felt like a rat, forced underground after his fleeting moment with the outside world.

He heard the VOX somewhere below, buzzing out its warning.

**_ATTENTION: ALL MILITARY PERSONNEL, ATOMIC BIOLOGICAL CHEMICAL ALERT._ **

His expression stiffened into a worried frown as he inched along the cold tunnel, dragging himself around another corner.

Lines of light seeped in from open covers spaced out along the vent’s length. Thinking he had found his exit point, Gordon crawled towards them and then immediately shrank, covering his mouth with his palm.

Directly below him were two marines.

“I killed twelve dumb ass scientists and not one of ‘em fought back. This sucks.”

“You said it.”

Gordon’s shock and fear faded into contempt. His grip around the crowbar tightened, so much so that the fabric of the gloves creaked. His mind took him back to the bodies in the warehouses, the executions, and the married man who would never see their wife again. Did they take pleasure in killing _them_ , too?

Anger manipulated him, urging his hand to reach for the pistol.

_Don’t be a fool. You can’t get a good shot from here and you know it. Killing them isn’t going to bring those people back._

He hesitated, the logical side of his mind tugging him away from reckless abandon. The two marines walked out of his line of sight and a group of four carrying equipment followed them shortly after.

If he _had_ fired, he would have revealed his position and be dead within moments.

A sharp exhale passed his lips, the rage slowly simmering and his head clearing. He took extra care to be quiet whilst he passed and was soon in the dark again.

His lonely journey felt never ending.

No more covers were found, just endless steel corridors of black. The maze of vents left him turning and crawling, building up stress and frustration. He was considering going back to the covers, providing he could find them, when the lamp caught something ahead.

Blood.

Pulling the pistol free out of self-preservation as opposed to hostility, he edged closer. A sizeable trail dragged along the junction. He shuddered with dread, doubting this had anything to do with the marines. The last place he wanted to bump into a zombie was inside a narrow duct.

The stench of rotting flesh was pungent and inescapable. Gagging and wafting away the flies that buzzed around his ears, Gordon convinced himself to look.

Cramped at the back of the duct to the left was the body of a torn open guard. Slumped over him was a dead zombie, a few bullet holes in the crab on top of its shoulders. The man’s familiar face was frozen in a look of terror.

“Ugh...”

He was somewhat glad that wasn’t the way out. A slick, bloody floor was definitely the lesser evil in comparison. The ordeal was rewarded with light that got brighter and brighter.

At long last his search had prevailed.

The security booth, bright, clean and airy, welcomed him home. It wasn’t just any security booth, however; this one was eerily memorable. On the other side of the window to his right was the still sealed blast door. He was right back to where he started.

Gordon clambered out of the duct and dropped into the office. As he turned to look around, a blur raced towards him.

He raised his left arm out of instinct – the pipe hitting the plates harmlessly – and aimed the Glock at a frightened pair of blue eyes.

“No, please! Please don’t shoot me! I – I thought you were one of them!”

Surprised by the plea, Gordon stopped. The bald scientist, quaking uncontrollably, dropped the dented pipe and backed away with his hands raised. His clothes were stained with blood and yet he didn’t appear to be injured.

“I’m s-so sorry, please...”

Lowering his arms, Gordon flicked the safety on and slipped the handgun into the holster. He showed the scientist his empty hands, trying to reassure him.

“It’s alright... I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down.”

The man lowered his trembling hands and took some slow, deep breaths. He looked petrified, his lined, ghostly face slick with sweat, dirt and blood.

“Are you hurt? What’s your name?” Gordon asked.

“N-no, it – it isn’t mine, I... It’s Brooks. N-nelson Brooks.”

He glanced at the pipe and let out nervous laughter.

“I guess that’s useless now... I – I’ve been hiding in here, watching the cameras. Well, watching _you_ , specifically. I lost you a few times, where the cameras couldn’t see. I feared the worst but I hoped you would make it. You and I... We’re all that’s left.”

Dr. Brooks moved to the chair by the console, sitting on it and hugging himself. Gordon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. If what he said was true – not that he had a reason to disbelieve him – what were the other sectors like? He didn’t know what to say; what _could_ he say?

“So much for the government... Their idea of ‘containment’ is to kill everyone associated with the project.”

So it was true. He didn’t want to accept it but he had seen and experienced it firsthand. Instead of rescuing them and helping them stop this madness, they were made expendable... Betrayed by the same people they worked for. They were civilians, not enemies of the state! How could they?

Sighing quietly, Nelson adjusted his glasses and looked up to Gordon.

“Judging by your hazard suit, I’d say that _you_ were part of what went wrong... Isn’t that right?”

Gordon tensed, moving his hand away. He struggled to look the elder man in the eye, guilt written over his features. He expected blame and spite. To his surprise, Dr. Brooks softly smiled. It was without mirth but full of understanding. There was no anger in his watery gaze.

“If anyone can end this catastrophe, it’s the science team in the Lambda Complex at the opposite end of the base. With the transit system out, however, I couldn’t tell you how to get there.”

Dr. Brooks stood from the chair and walked over to the console by the window. He slotted his bloody I.D card into its port and inputted something on the keypad. The silo door released and slowly rose, flashing red lights reflecting off the glass.

“But there’s an old decommissioned rail system somewhere through here, beyond the silo complex. If you can make it through the rocket test labs, you might be able to worm your way through the old tunnels and track down whatever is left of the Lambda team...”

A loud thud completed the cycle. Nelson turned to face Gordon once more, his expression sincere.

“You can trust them. You can trust all of us.”

His goal was already decided, but now he had the missing pieces to get underway; a location and a starting point. If there was even the slimmest of chances of success, it was worth doing.

“Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ , for trying to protect us. You did what you could.”

A vague ghost of a smile pulled at his lips, the words not offering much comfort but he made the effort to look appreciative.

“What about you? What will you do?”

“Oh... Don’t worry about me. I’d just get in the way and slow you down. With the whole area sealed off, I doubt anyone will come looking. You must go – time is of the essence.”

Gordon reluctantly nodded, turning to the door. He didn’t want to abandon him but he wasn’t going to argue.

“Wait...”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Before you go... Could you tell me your name?”

“Freeman. Gordon Freeman.”

“Godspeed, Freeman... And sorry again for trying to bash your brains out.”

A soft noise of amusement left him as he looked away, the door sliding open. He stepped into the corridor where, not too long ago, he thought his nightmare was coming to an end.

Those vending machines he had previously ignored now seemed very inviting.

The crowbar made quick work of the glass protecting the snacks and drinks inside. He wasn’t all that hungry but he didn’t know when he would get to eat again. It wasn’t just sustenance; it was fuel to keep him operating. He grabbed two energy bars and a bottle of water, glancing at the elevator.

Lewis and the others were just down that shaft. A pang of guilt struck.

_You have to go, Gordon._

Inhaling sharply, he pulled himself away and strode to the charging stations on the wall with renewed purpose. The dusty, dirty and bloody HEV got a well deserved top up and so did his medication. He did his best to ignore the charred floor near the fire door and offered Dr. Brooks a wave of farewell. It was returned fondly even if he appeared solemn. They would never see each other again.

Crossing the line separating the two areas felt like the point of no return, especially when the door lowered behind him and sealed.

His path was set.

_I’m sorry..._


End file.
